


Coffee Stains

by Lavi1443



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dark, Dark Will Graham, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, Hannibal is Hannibal, I probably forgot someone but whatever - Freeform, M/M, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, No Fluff, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, One-Sided Attraction, Possessive Hannibal, Realistic AU, Slow Burn, Thriller, new crime scenes not from the show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-12-05 10:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11576205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavi1443/pseuds/Lavi1443
Summary: A/U: There are not a lot of things left that give Will the energy to get out of bed every morning. But the small things he managed to gather around himself over the years, those are dearly precious to him.He certainly doesn't like it when someone feels the privilege to try and take them away from him and destroy them in front of his eyes. He doesn't belong to anyone, and the things he has, he's going to protect with all his might.And no, he is not some vulnerable abused omega.*AN: Will was put into a recovery program in the Institution for Past Abused Omegas. He doesn't agree that he suffered from past abuse, but there is no other explanation for how he managed to understand that the father of his best friend from high-school was a serial killer, nor does it explain how Will managed to catch him in the act, kill him, save his friend, and to do all of that while he still barely fifteen years old.Ten years later and he is still struggling to piece his life together. He's not going to sit back and watch it all fall apart all over again.





	1. Not Yet Raining

Will didn't much like the rush hour in the subway.

The graffiti, the smells, the take-away food boxes overturned on the floor near the trash can.

He couldn't help his eyes from following a pale woman walking in front of him, she was dressed in a bright red coat that reached down to her knees.

Will stood, shirt not touching the wall behind his back. He saw the other man following in her direction as she walked to the edge of the platform. He could see the glint in the man's eyes.

Will wanted to look down at the tiles under his feet instead, but couldn't really control the way his gaze glued itself to the man's hand as he brushed his knuckles briefly on the woman's ass and upper thighs, so meticulous in the pretense of innocence that even as the woman tensed and looked behind her shoulder, she couldn't convince herself that what she felt was real.

Bad taste in Will's mouth, and he pulled the pack of mint gums out of the pocket of his shoulder bag.

When the train arrived, he avoided the woman and entered through a different entrance. 

It was two stops and he reached the station near his apartment.

The truth was, the metro station was a ten minutes' walk away from his building. But there wasn't any other station closer to where he lived.

Will loved the time of the year when the season was turning from chilly fall to cold winter. The trees drew their last breath of life, before they fell asleep for the rest of the year's circle. Will looked up at the dimming skies. There were clouds, but there was no serious promise for a rain just yet.

*

Will didn't like to be around a lot of people for long periods of time.

But.

He decided to drop by the mini-market under his apartment, walking between the shelves, and looking around at all the things he wasn't going to buy. He knew of a bigger super-market that had the same products for half the price down a few blocks towards the center. But it didn't feel the same, over there. The feeling was different for him.

The girl at the cashier in the mini-market, high-school graduate by the look of her, was already used to his oddness. She sometimes greeted him when he came in, rare occasions when her mood was lifted.

Most of the time she saw him coming in and behaved as if he's a ghost. Most of the time she didn't react even after he walked out, an hour later, empty handed.

*

There was something about entering the silent vacuum of his empty apartment while still being able to hear the traffic and commotion from outside… it was unsettling, in lack of better terms. Sometimes it felt like entering a submarine. Quiet, protective, discreet, and extremely claustrophobic.

Couldn't stand going out, couldn't stand staying in.

The ringing noise from his own cellphone surprised him, and he lifted it to look at the screen.

He frowned, before he answered. "Alana?"

"Hello Will."

Will narrowed his eyes. "Hello."

"I heard you left in the middle of the meeting." Ala sounded calmly accusing. It was as if she was telling him he committed a crime but she wasn't really blaming him for it.

Will walked into the kitchen and filled the kettle before answering her.

"Well," He started, didn't really know how to finish the sentence, got distracted by arranging everything for a nice cup of coffee.

"I hope you at least dropped by Margot to write in your assignment notebook?"

"Not really, no."

A sigh, Will would have cringed if he were not so used to those tiny stabbing guilt knifes Alana liked to throw - when it fitted her agenda.

When Will was first dropped under her care as a teenager; he used to always have this deep sensation in his gut that he was doing something wrong.

The sense of wrongness didn't fade over the years; It remained sitting somewhere in his gut, constantly nagging at him. He learned to ignore it, if not even make peace with it. In other words- he learned to pretend that it didn't touch him, when people expressed their disappointment. 

"Do you want to go back to institution's apartments, Will?"

Will poured the boiled water into the cup, watching as the dark brown powder of the coffee floated in the whirlpool. Was she trying to threaten him? "No." He said honestly.

"Then come tomorrow, to my office, I don't care what hour, I know you're not good with times. Margot's working tomorrow and she can go over the assignments you missed today when you skipped visiting her. Then, when I'll have a moment to spare, we will have a talk. Is that alright with you?"

"That's more than fair."

"Yes, I think so, too."

*

*

*

Fine artworks hung on the wall. Two young, pretty ballet dancers stretching their long feet in front of a mirror.

The air conditioner was hardly making any noise, it released cool air into the hall.

The carpet was dark, the walls were creme. It was a secluded room on the fourth floor of the building.

The time was noon the day after Alana's sudden phone-call, and Will was sitting on the cushioned chair in the waiting room outside Alana's therapy room. He was looking down at a dirty spot on the plush carpet when the door behind Margot's desk opened. Will glanced up high enough to see Alana walking out of her office with another man wearing a suit alongside her.

"Will, good to see you!" Alana sounded both surprised and delighted. She knew Will was coming today, she was the one who requested it, but Will felt sometimes like he was always catching her off guard. He didn't know whether to be insulted or confused.

She was wearing pink. "Are we going to have our _talk_ in your office?" Will asked. It sounded sharp, bored, irritated. Will usually sounded that way. He didn't look at her face, his eyes fixed on her high-heel elegant shoes. Leather black, shiny.

Alana paused, didn't say anything. There was an awkward silence. Just from the way she was shifting and leaning from one high heeled shoe to the other - Will could see in his mind the way she was looking at Will, at the man standing beside her, and back again.

The slacks standing behind Alana took a step forward. "Nice to meet you. My name is Hannibal, Alana is a colleague of mine."

Will took a deep breath and averted his gaze from the man's tie to the oil-painting of a lake full of lilies that was positioned above Margot's desk.

"Will." Alana scolded.

The inside of his sweat-shirt's pockets was soft to the touch. "Hello." Will said. The man didn’t move to shake his hand, but his body language didn't indicate that he was planning to leave. Alana didn't push Will into a conversation; Will was grateful for that.

After a short silence which seemed to be stretching on and on – Alana said: "Thank you, Hannibal, for coming today."

Alana's tone of voice was so pleased, that even Margot lifted her eyes from the paperwork, taking interest in the conversation for the first time since it began. Will caught her stare, and Margot lifted an eyebrow at him. _Did you hear that?_ Her eyes said. Will heard, and he could understand the amusement _._

"It was nothing." Hannibal said.

Will stepped towards the entrance to Alana's office, just to realize that the man was blocking the path. He stared pointily at the man's dress shoes, they didn't move, didn't even shift. In Will's opinion - both Alana's thanks and the obvious lack of conversation were clues big enough to notice that there was no reason for the man to stay. Yet there he stood, too close to Margot's desk so that Will won't be able to pass without brushing with either of them, but far enough to annoy. _Just mover a little bit to the left._

"Would it be alright if I stayed for this session? Will and I didn’t get the chance to talk."

Alana paused, again. She seemed to be uncharacteristically lacking in smart responses this noon. Will assumed it was because she didn't know how to kindly brush her _colleague_ off. "Only if it's okay with Will-"

"No."

Silence.

"I mean." Wil watched the light reflecting on the man's polished shoes. "It's not okay, with me. The answer is no."

*

"Are you having conversations about me, with other psychiatrists?"

Alana watched him, sitting in her chair like she owned the place (She kind of did, as it was her office, so Will couldn't blame her for it). "Yes." Was her careful reply. "But only with a selected few, very _discreet_ selected few." She elaborated, her voice soft.

"What are you talking about, with them, about me?" Will didn't really want to know, that wasn't the point. The real point was to make Alan realize how... not-okay it was.

"The conversations we have are more about me- my methods, my… insight, or lack of. When we talk about you - we actually talk about the therapy I provide you. It's nothing that needs to embarrass you or make you feel uncomfortable."

Will huffed a short bark of laughter - and suddenly found the sensation of his thumb rubbing against the fabric of the hand-rest amazingly captivating. "Are you hinting about other things I should be feeling uncomfortable about?"

"Is that the message you got from my words?"

Will lost interest with that line of conversation, it was obvious Alana chose to claim obliviousness – directing his own words back at him. It was a tactic Will didn't care for. It was boring. And by not replying, there came the end of the conversation.

"Have you completed all the assignments with Margot today?"

"Yes."

"They are very important for your progress."

The light from the windows entered the room in a thousand shades of blue, muting Alana's therapy room into something dark, but comfortable in its darkness. Not cozy, not really, just... peaceful, quiet, stabilizing – sort of. 

"Are you taking your pills?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Alana shifted in her sit. "You always have a choice, Will."

"If I want to stay free, do I have a choice?"

"Our freedom of choice is a freedom in and for itself."

 Will's fingers tapped on his thigh. He liked Alana, and his sentimental flaws were the only reason he humored her at this point. "I don't want to feel like I belong to someone else."

There was a brief pause. "Do you want to talk about your fear of losing control?"

"What is there to talk about? Who _doesn't_ fear losing of control?"

"A lot of people don't fear it. But even if there are more people like you, the fact that you are not _just the same_ as other people, means that your fear is not the same either."

 _Not true_. Everyone has the same fear. Everyone imagine fear, love, hate, contempt, lose... everyone experiences and expect those emotions the same. "I'm afraid of losing myself."

"Losing yourself to what?"

"To nothingness, until there is nothing left of me anymore."

"You're afraid of losing sight of yourself."

"Yes."

"Will." Alana leaned forward. Will looked outside the window, to the canopy of the tree growing near the building. It was having less and less leaves every day passing. "There's nothing wrong with letting yourself get closer to other people in order to ground yourself. In fact, I encourage you to do that."

"Okay." Will agreed.

"I think it will be good for you to try and have a job. We have several different options you can choose from. We can look at everything together and talk about the pro and cons of each job, until you think you can handle one of them. How is that?" She grabbed a folder from the round small table by her chair.

That got Will curious, and he looked at the folder, wondering what it holds.

"I've requested the IPAO to save up at least five of these until you give your final answer, but in order to do that we need to tell them which to save and which to give to someone else, until at five pm today, that's two hours from now. Do you think we can do it?"

"Yes."

"Good."

*

They went through the job offers together. Most of them were boring to tears, or plain out offensive. Of course  - the jobs concerning some kind of connection with minors were out of the pile before Will and Alana even began to discuss them. Will took the folder from Alana and pulled out anything to do with either children, education, or bloody omega social services.

"Is it still common for people to believe that being an omega means I like kids?" Will wondered aloud. After first screening, he was left with only half the pile of sheets he was given.

"Even though our society is slowly beginning to understand the concept of pluralism, we are still many years from a true change."

"Does the Institution for Past Abused Alphas offers them to help in changing diapers in the local crèche?"

"The job is not only about changing diapers."

"So does it? I mean, offers the job to alphas as well as omegas?"

Alana studied him for a long moment. "… Let's look at the jobs you chose to keep." Elegant re-direction.

"Why am I even in the IPAO's lists in the forts place? Why do I need to get the job through the institution? I'm not _truly_ a victim of abuse, there should be no problem for me to be completely independent of monitoring."

"You went though some very traumatizing events."

"Not every traumatic event is a product of abuse."

Alan humored his fit of tantrum. "The IPAO has the skills and the ability to help you out. And that's why it was decided that you will be placed in their care."

"Isn't there any other program that helps PTSD recovers?"

"Not for omegas, I fear not."

Will suddenly didn't really want to look at the job offers anymore. He got up from his chair.

"Will." Will began to feel a spark of something sharp and unkind rise within him every time Alana used that tone of voice when she was calling his name. Like she was warning him of the dog-shit left on the sidewalk he was about to step on.

"I don't feel like choosing today, pick something out yourself and give me the five options you keep the next time we meet. I'm leaving."

*

He forgot his pills at home. And when someone got too close to be an accident - Will could smell him, and the smell of lust and held-back aggression was so familiar it made him sick. He was in the subway, on his way home.

Alana looked disappointed when she said her goodbyes.

Will picked a mint gum and shoved it in his mouth, it re-focused his senses and made him less aware of his surroundings. It lasted only a minute or so, but it worked, and that was all that mattered. It was an old trick someone in his childhood taught him, when Will began to avoid going to school. This time it wasn't the rush hour in the train, but somehow it made the clinging of the other man all the more obvious.

"Hey." A deep unfamiliar voice said from somewhere nearby. Will could see the leather boat-shoes hidden beneath worn blue jeans. "Step off."

A scuff of breath, and the warmth from the body that shared the small space near the door by Will's side disappeared.

Will could feel the vibes from the new person, could sense the nervous energy of someone not sure what to say next. "Are you okay?" The man asked.

"Yes." Will replied, and turned to look out the windows of the doors.

The buzz saved Will from any farther discussions, the train halted violently, knocking a few people off their feet, the doors opened with a slam and Will managed to squeeze out between the people rushing to get in.

*

*

The girl in the cashier at the mini-market looked up to greet him. He nodded back.

He didn’t expect to see anything new on the shelves, he just enjoyed to pass the time. The mini-market provided him both the shelter he needed in order to hide from the eyes of others, and to have the excuse to be in a continued close proximity with other people without it being disturbing for both sides.

They had a sale on toilet papers, the price so tempting that Will considered buying. He haven't bought anything in this shop for the last two months.

That didn't stop him from visiting almost every day.

The girl was surprised, but was good at quickly getting over it. She smiled at him, and Will almost met her eyes as he smiled back, handing over the money.

*

*

*

"Hey, I know you."

Will didn't recognize the dress shirt and black jeans that came up to him in the subway a few days later.

"I don't know you." Will said, not unkindly. Just stating a fact.

"Oh, well, uhm. A few days ago, that idiot was all over you. I hope you were really okay after that, and not just saying it to be left alone."

Will paused, re-considered the man standing far enough away as to not crowd Will into a corner. "I'm fine." He risked glancing up. A plain face, brown hair, brown eyes. A simple man.

"That's…. that's good to know." After an awkward silence, and just before they reached Will's stop, the man said: "Yeah. I, actually, wanted to talk to you for some time and just didn't know how to, you know, start a conversation. I see you a lot, we tend to take the subway on the same hours for some reason. Even though, you know, I haven't always seen you or something, it's not like I'm following you or anything-" the buzz before the halt of the train almost swallowed his words.

"Have a nice day." Will tried to smile, but forgot to look up as he did so.

*

"Okay." Margot flipped between the sheets as she walked alongside him. "You were supposed to read the short story since the last meeting, did you do it?"

"No."

Margot didn't even pause at his answer. "Well, that's your problem. Because now you're going to have to join a discussion about it in the group meeting."

Will sighed. "It's not like they can force me to speak." Will accepted the stack of papers when Margot handed it over to him.

"No, but they can force you to have speech therapy until you do so by yourself. Or hang yourself, but most patients tend to choose the first option." She was almost singing her words out. Will always wondered where she drew her endless sense of irony from. She could find something bitter and funny on the package of potato chips and tell herself jokes about it all day long.

"Sounds like a bad deal."

"Oh yes."

"I'd very much like to avoid hanging myself, can you tell me about the story, pretty please?" They passed a corner, and the door to Will's groups meeting was open and inviting.

"You can listen to the others talk and draw your own conclusion about it yourself; I'm sure you're intelligent enough." They stopped when they reached the entrance.

"Are you intentionally screwing me up?" Will smiled, looked up to her eyes, she was looking back. Blue eyes mischievous with good humor.

Will almost felt sad when Margot turned to leave. He always had good times with Margot when they were both up to speaking to each other. 

"Good luck, abused omega."

Will would have said something nasty right back, but she was stepping away, and there were other people coming to the meeting. He didn't want to draw to much attention to himself. He entered the room together with a few others.

Will sat down, and for the rest of the meeting, gazed out the window. 

*

*

"Will, good to see you."

It was the Hannibal person, again. Will stepped back, unpleasantly surprised. He glanced at Margot, who was playing solitaire on the computer and didn't pay them any attention.

"Where's Alana?" Will asked. He didn't like being taken off guard in that manner, and was disappointed that Margot didn't even warn him before he knocked on the door to Alana's therapy room.

"She's currently speaking on the phone with another patient who needed her help urgently. Please, come in." He gestured for Will to enter as if he was welcoming him to his own office. That got Margot's attention, and she looked up sharply to meet Will's eyes. Will made a face, and she shrugged. It would be unreasonable for him to wait outside, it wouldn't make any difference.

And so, Will entered.

Alana had a new flower - in a pot by the window. It was white, and the blossom looked small and sad. Will walked straight to it, touching it with the tips of his finger.

"It's not yet cold enough for the sowbread to fully bloom." Alana's colleague said. Will didn't expect Hannibal to speak to him, and he turned to look behind his shoulder.

The man stood maybe a meter away, making Will tense with alert. He didn't even hear the man following so closely behind. And now Will found himself trapped against the window.

Something about this man made him wish to draw back into himself. "Is that so?" He managed, not really interested. "I thought the cold killed flowers."

"Not this one, it will take true freezing temperature to make him shy. Otherwise, the sowbread thrives in the cold season."

"I see." Will nodded and looked at the door on the other side of the room. Alana had an office where she held all her private phone calls and arranged all her notes. Will wondered whether it would be too late to retreat back into the waiting room where Margot was sitting. He preferred the artificial lights and the company of a silent Margot over this sense of something uncomfortable growing in his gut.

"It's very rare, for flowers to blossom when everything around them dies. Isn’t that beautiful? To grow powerful from something that is intolerable for others?"

Will swallowed, took a deep breath, held it. "I guess."

Hannibal's back straitened. It was only then that Will realized the man was leaning forward.

"You looked curious, when you stepped right to it the moment you walked into the room."

"It's new, and it's a flower, and it looked sad, that's all." Will shrugged. He walked to the shelves of books. They were not many in number, but it was enough to occupy him for a few months back in his teens. He pulled out one, not even looking at the title. Everything here was fiction, Alana kept this small library for patients who needed to get used to this room before they could open their mouths. Will was one of those patients.

It was six months, back then, before he first spoke to Alana, and it was a month later that he said more than one sentence at a time. Alana was patient with him then, even more so than she was now.

"Alana talks to me about your sessions, from a time to time. I hope it is okay with you." Will wondered why was Hannibal telling him this?

"I already know that, and I don't care."

"You don't?" A pause. "That's surprising, considering your strong wish for privacy."

That _did_ make Will look up to the man's chin, frowning. "Are you trying to turn me against Alana? She was nothing but honest with me from the start."

"Really, is that what you think?"

Will forgot about the book resting in his hands, he met the man's eyes briefly, they appeared dark in the cold light glowing in the room. "Wha-"

"Will, you're here." Alana opened the door to her office and came out with a few folders in her hands. "It's good to see you, I'm sorry you had to wait, I hope you're still okay with staying for a full hour like I asked of you?"

Will hurried to walk in her direction, careful to keep his distance from Hannibal, who somehow managed to draw near…. Again. "It's fine, I hadn't even noticed."

"Oh, that's good." Alana beamed at Hannibal, which made Will frown in the man's direction. "I'm glad to hear that. Did the two of you talk?"

"No." Will said, his word blending together with the "Yes" that came from Hannibal.

Alana's eyebrows lifted high on her forehead as she turned a studying gaze at Will, the gaze lingered.

"I would appreciate to have the chance to talk to Will again." Hannibal said, and it made Will cringe.

"Good. Very… good, yes." Alana said, exhaling sharply. She wanted to ask Will questions, but knew he wouldn't answer with another person in the room.

She thanked Hannibal for coming, Hannibal replied it was no problem.

Hannibal stopped by Will on his way out, and maybe the fact that Alana was standing right there beside them gave him the excuse he needed to finally cross the invisible line between them and crowd into Will's space. Whatever it was that justified his actions in his own mind, Hannibal found it suitable to brush a hand over Will's shoulder before seeing himself out the door.

Hannibal was without a doubt an alpha, and he had the naughty habit of believing he had the right to touch people without their permission.

Will felt something nasty crawl up his throat, and he hurried to pull out his mint gums.  

 

 


	2. Easy Prey

"So, I have a few jobs in here waiting for you." Alana smiled at him.

Will didn't smile back, he was too nervous for something like that. "Yeah?" He tried to sound natural, but in fact he was quite twitchy.

He gave a lot of thoughts to the idea of going to a day-job, even if not on a regular basis. He had some twisted metal-visions of himself beginning to work at McDonalds or something equally ridiculous.

Kowing that the _Institution for Past Abused Omegas_ wouldn't ever consider putting down _those_ type of job offers - Will couldn't help but guess. He considered the fact that the work-places went thought some screenings themselves, all the current workers in those places had to be sensitive to the issues of omegas with PTSD and all of that.

Alana let him take the folder to his hands and open it himself. He appreciated the fact that as his psychiatrist she respected his independence and his wish to leave most of his life without other's interference. He did ask her to choose five options for him, but she let him have the illusion it was his own choice from start to finish.

Alana could be perceptive and sensitive, when she wished. Will almost never shared recent experiences with her. He couldn't help but thinking that it was none of nobody's business.  The sole focus of their meetings was about general issues or… past issues. Alana didn't expect him to be vulnerable like the stereotype demanded him to be, and that made Will wish to be stronger and prove her right.

"What do you think?"

Will only went through the first two. One was in a museum of arts, one was… Surprisingly enough, in the neighboring IPAA.

"I didn't know there were IPAO patients going to work in the _Institution for Past Abused Alphas_ , how does it even work?"

Alana's lips twitched into a resemblance of a smile. "What do you mean?" She expected the question.

"I thought patients can't treat other patients."

"Your group therapy guide is in his tenth year in the IPAA."

That made Will blink at her and frown. "I didn't know that," He hesitated. "I would have never thought-"

"He told me once," Alana cut over his sentence, rare for her to do. She shifted in her seat, re-crossing her crossed legs. "That you are the only one in the whole group that have never looked at him, even at the times he scolded you that you need to share more, you remained quite stubborn in your uncooperativeness. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that you don't even know his name, or what he looks like, to be honest."

Will cringed. It was true, and it made him feel guilty.

"I want to talk about your past." She pronounced the last word carefully.

"Again?"

"Yes."

"I don't see how that is going to help me any."

Alana's eyes twitched. She was unhappy with that answer. "I want us to reach the source of your fear of connection, and pull it apart bits by bits." She looked at him with a new spark of determination in her eyes.

Will hated to not hold up to her expectations.

She said nothing, just observed him with her bright blue eyes. And he crumbled under the sensation of a building tsunami made of her disappointment of him. He could see it coming like a man standing on the train line and hearing the sound of it heading towards him from behind the woods, knowing what was there and gaining speed. He hated the sensation of it, creeping up his throat. It tasted like self-loathing and worthlessness.

Something in him sought to please her, and he wanted to tear this part out of his brain and right out of his soul and throw it out the window.

"Where do you want me to begin?" He asked. He always asked that. He saw the way she shifted, relaxing. And he could feel his own body releasing whatever tension it held in respond to the danger passing.

He avoided the train.

"I want you to begin with what you think is the beginning."

 _That was exactly the problem_. Every time Alana asked Will to begin where he _thought he should begin_ , it had a different beginning.

Sometimes it even had a different end.

He sighed, looked out the window. The few leaves left on the tree outside were dark orange and brown. As he watched, a black spider climbed on glass. Will was fascinated by it. The motion of the spider's legs leaving him with a weird sense of focus. The sowbread was blooming as the temperatures dropped and everything died around them, like Hannibal said they would.

"A few kids in class said there was another body found, somewhere new." As he said it, his mind provided him with the picture of that day. Light coming into the classroom from the window.  Joe wearing that horrible bright yellow shirt he used to wear all the time. 

When he didn't continue, Alana decided to help him: "What did they describe it as?"

"Something grotesque. Well, grotesque like all the others before that. The same as the others, but different."

"They said it was different?"

"Yes."

"And they also said it was the same?"

"Well, by this point it was quite obvious all the murders were connected."

"To you." Alana added after him, almost smiling. "It was obvious to you. From what I remember, the police only connected about three of the cases, not all of them, certainly not the nine it was discovered to be."

Will frowned. "Well, I don't exactly remember if they said it was the same as the others or not, I didn't write down anything people told me back then just so I would be able to bring it up more accurately." It came out harsh. Definitely harsher than he intended it to be.

Alana merely blinked at his words. "The point, in my opinion, is what made _you_ think, back then, that they were all connected. Even if the idea came from someone else, what made you agree with it?"

"I read about those cases, I mean, whatever reached the newspapers back then. I heard rumors and stories from others. It was just… it was a feeling, I don't know." Will didn't like to explain himself in so many details, it was stressful to him. He could feel the weight of it building on his shoulders and straining the back of his neck. "They were all so personal. All killed in their homes, no signs of guns, if there were any drugs they were not anything criminal. No records no… no nothing."

When he raised his eyes and met Alana's gaze, he tried to ignore how beautiful she was and just let the words flow out of him. She won't judge him for it, he told himself, that's what therapy is for, to fucking let go of all the shit.

"That's what was so… eye catching, it's hard to explain. They were all such simple characters, the victims- I mean, no significance. No… no importance. The society as a whole wouldn't have noticed their absence if they were not so horribly butchered in their own homes- usually with knifes and… whatever sharp object was already in their house to begin with, personal belongings.

"Why would someone even bother?" Will asked, not expecting an answer. "Those murders happened all across the country, some even on neighboring states. It was a really large pool to fish in - while being as picky as the murderer was.

"So, why… them? If you murder someone, it's because you get something out of it. Be it... satisfaction, money, pride, glory, a way to supply yourself with something you're missing. Those murderers did not happen so that whoever killed them could show-off – which is more typical for narcissists. And it wasn't for the sake of some twisted self-righteousness, then what was it?"

"What was it, indeed?" Alana was watching him like he was something she had never seen in her life before. Will tried to ignore that, focusing on his own words. It was hard.  

"Personal satisfaction. Maybe not on the level of anything deep. Just, it had to be someone who knew them. Cutting them into pieces like that, coming into their houses. It was… I was wondering about it." Will's eyes skittered back to the window, the spider was already gone.

"About what?"

"How come nobody mentioned their pets, or their houses in general, the folks living around? Nothing about that. No one even noticed it was weird." He foot was dancing on its own, heel tapping on the carpet beneath him like it was wishing to run somewhere. "None of them had dogs? Bullshit, almost everyone in every town I've been to had either a shotgun or a German-shepherd, or both. No neighbors mentioned - while some of them had houses in the middle of their towns. I mean, c'mon." He spread he hands, like he was inviting Alana to tell him again, how not-obvious it was.

"So," Alana glanced at his foot, which was still in continued motion. She made a note in her book. She looked up at him. He was observing the silver jewelry on her wrist. "It was someone who knew them."

"Yes."

"You reached that conclusion, and then what?"

"And then I couldn't sleep for the rest of the week."

"Why?"

"Because." the strain on his neck was traveling upwards to above his ears, near his temples. "Who the hell would know so many people so personally, all across the southern stretch of the USA?"

"Who?"

"Someone who moves a lot. Probably. Someone who…" Will swallowed. "Is used to read the environment, make people like him. Make people trust him, and do it fast. Blend so well in that you forgot he moved in only a few months ago. Someone who feels like he belongs immediately, everywhere, anywhere. Someone who is so well liked, that even if he were to move somewhere else, and only return half a year later with cans of beer and a story to tell… in the middle of the evening's hokey-watching routine, let's say, he's the character that a lonesome person without a family would love to welcome into their house for some… catching up." 

"And you recognized exactly that type person? From around you?"

Will could feel how wet his shirt was from his sweating. Sitting down wasn't comfortable anymore. He brought his knees up to hide his stomach, and he didn't even notice he was doing that. "I don't wish to continue." He looked down, his fingers were gripping the hand-rest so tight that the knuckles turned white.  

For the first time since they began this session, Alana actually looked worried. "Will, it's okay, you don't have to talk about something you don't wish to talk about."

Something in Will snapped to hear that fucking compassion. "But I said, in the beginning, I don't want to talk about that. And you said _let's talk about it_. So, now we're fucking _talking_." He stopped, tried to breathe, couldn't, looked to the side. There was something dark swelling up inside of him.

The silence in the room was deafening.

"I think I'm…" Alana hesitated, and Will hated to hear the waver in her voice, to know he was the cause of it. "I think we need to stop for today. Would you like me to help you relax?"

Will was up on his feet before she even finished the sentence. He didn't know how to talk to her, he didn't know how to be around people at this moment. He just… needed some space.

Somewhere deep in his head a small voice said that maybe he was just causing more damage rather than solving the problem, by storming out like that.

But he simply didn't know what else to do, he didn't have the ability to think clearly.

He heard Alana call out his name once more - before he slammed the door shut behind him and practically flew down the four floors and out to the park. The clouds were heavy and grey, the mist in the air was crisp and refreshing.

He began to walk. He trusted his feet to know where to take him.

*

*

 _Omega Daily Pills_ were not meant to be taken in public. It was mentioned on the small plastic bottle in bright bold letters, it was something every Omega knew since the age of six.

For the first few minutes after taking them, sometimes even hours when the omega was extremely sensitive, the pills made the body go into a state of semi-shock. The one taking them was still functional on the basic level, but the pills made you… detach from reality. Feelings and thoughts began to blur as a background noise in a grey-scale world made of two dimensional objects. Until the side effects faded away, leaving the omega in a moment of high-definition _non-pheromonial_ world. It wasn't actually a word in English, but it still appeared in the commercials.

After years of taking it you eventually got used to the side effects.

Will was sitting in the park, head held back and eyes closed. He was sprawled on the public bench, not caring about the children shouting behind him or the people making their evening jogs.

He blinked his eyes open and was mesmerized by the burning orange of the leaves high above him. There was a crepe booth with a line of people gathered around it waiting for their turn to order. Will watched them, his mind silent for a change.

When a man walked to him and sat beside him on the bench Will didn't even pay him any mind. The man didn't talk to him, and so Will felt comfortable enough to just wait for this stranger to leave in his own time.

At least an hour had passed before Will decided to make his way back home for the evening. He got up and started walking, he heard the man huff and get up behind him, and didn't look back. He didn't need to see with his eyes what his mind already knew. He was being followed.

When Will reached his street, he considered entering the mini-market and sending a signal for help from... whoever was there and could help him, but the girl he came to like was at her shift that evening. He didn't know how to draw alert without risking her if this stalker would follow him in. He felt his nerves sing when he purposely continued to walk past and down the side-walk. There was a shopping-mall nearby, he could try and lose his stalker in the crowd.

*

There was hardly any crowd to get lost at, though. This mall was not one of the bigger ones with the thousands of tourists and fashion seekers. The shops were smaller and so were the groups and couples milling about. The most crowded area was the fast-food section, and mostly everyone in there were either sitting or standing in line.

The situation was beginning to get a little bit scary and out of hand. Will could think of only one more thing he could do to call for help without risking anyone. He didn't care that his stalker was still standing somewhere nearby, watching him. He didn't care that just a few hours ago he slammed the door in her face. Will pulled out his phone and called Alana.

It took her a while to answer, but finally she did.

"Hello, Will?"

It was then that something hard and heavy tackled him to the ground and his phone was knocked out of the palm of his hand. He heard shouts and the unmistakable deafening sound of a gun being shot too near to his head.

"Nobody moves!" A man roared, Will could feel the vibration of his voice deep in his chest. His ears hurt so bad it was piercing into his brain like a jackhammer. Before Will could recognize which way was up, he felt the way the collar of his shirt was grasped firmly on someone's hand as he was dragged to a standing.

Will coughed, bile rising and making his throat feel sour. The bright fluorescents were white and unfriendly, and the faces of the people around him were confused and terrified. None of those people understood what they did wrong to deserve this. They were just normal. They didn't mess with serial killers as teenagers, they didn't have disorders and serious problems with their lives. This crazy man was not here for them.

 _Something here is not-normal_ , in their eyes - Will could see that line of thought floating. They knew it as much as Will knew it. It was hard to miss the evidence when Will's hands were forced into an uncomfortable stretch in order to be tied behind his back. When his hair was being felt by fingers that were gentle, until the moment they were not. He gasped and his face distorted with the pain of it. His head was placed on the man's shoulder, a gun pointed at his chin.

Almost an embrace.

Will imagined in his heart that later, when Alana would sit him in her therapy room, and the IPAA patient that acted as his support-group guide would ask him to share about his experience, he would be terrified just from the memory of all of this happening to him.

But right then? At the moment of realization?

Will Graham was being abducted at a gun point in front of about 150 eye witnesses in the middle of the fast-food section of the local shopping mall. 

And he was holding back his laughter at how absurd it all was.

The man began to walk, and Will had no choice but to follow his lead, which lead them to the emergency stairwell. Will scoffed. "If it's the police you're trying to avoid, you better take the elevators."

The man didn't reply, but surprisingly enough, he took Will's advice seriously.

They traveled down to the ground floor. When the elevator's doors opened they revealed at least five of the mall's security team. Will blinked at them. His heart gave a frightened skip in its beat, but the pills were still fresh in his system, and he found himself gazing around like he was in somebody else's dream. The lobby was vast enough that they security team kept the respectable distance of a few yards away.

If they'd shoot they'd probably miss and hit Will instead.

"Let us leave or he dies!" The man behind Will shouted, and Will wondered at how stupid the man was. Will's senses were blocked so well by the pills that he couldn't even tell if the man was an omega, beta or alpha… but he was stupid, for sure.

If Will were in the man's shoes, he'd let his victim have the illusion that everything is safe, and then crawl into their bedroom at night.

Or even better, he'd befriend him and accept him and love him, and have his victim trust him so bad and so deep that no shadow of suspicion would ever cross his heart until it was already too late.  

Will could see black cars arriving in front of the exit outside. Bold letters letting him know these were the FBI. _They were here fast_. It made him wonder how come it was the FBI, and not the local police. Did they think it was a terrorist attack?

Or maybe… maybe Will's stalker was more than just a random crack-head.

A team entered, wearing all black, with serious protective gear and some intimidating weapons carried in their arms.

"I'll only give you one warning." A booming, impressive voice called and filled the room with its authority. "Let Will Graham go, drop your weapon, or I tell my men to fire, and believe me, they won't miss."

Will could feel the heartbeat of the man behind him even through all the layers of cloth. He was afraid, he was lost, and most of all- he was confused and nervous. It was a toxic combination for someone who appeared to be so unstable.

"Hey." Will said, softly, and the gun brushed against his cheek as he spoke, the hand holding it to his face was shaking. "I don't know who you are or what you want, but if it's _me_ , I promise you, I'll come and talk to you when you are under arrest."

His could feel how the man behind him was breathing too fast to be normal. He was very close to a panic attack. Will looked around them at all the people who were glaring at them and looking ready to shoot like they didn't fucking _care_ , and he got nervous, too.

The man didn't do him any harm, sure, he pointed a gun at him which was pretty violent. But maybe he simply didn't know how else to approach? It took a lot of guts, to just… walk up to someone and begin to talk to them. And if you had something very personal and important to say, it was even harder.

In Will's mind, he remembered the guy who wanted to talk to him on the train. The one with the brown eyes and the brown hair was who stuttering through his apologies. Will felt a sudden burst of _understanding_. He felt _sorry -_ for this man who was pointing a gun at him. Maybe instead of threatening this poor man with death, someone in here should make the effort to _listen to him_. He had something important to say, and it was only right that he would be listened to.

"I'll listen." Will promised him. He trusted the man to know what he means. "I'll listen, I promise, I'll listen to what you have to say."

"You won't. Nobody listens." The man said, his voice was shaking, but deep with feelings.

Will wondered what he looked like, wondered what it would be like to meet this man under normal circumstances.

"Try me."

A gasp, and then: "You're my last fucking option, no one fucking believes me. I'm not this man who killed all those people.

"You'd know, you caught that guy back then. You'd recognize a killer. Do I look like a killer to you?" His voice began to rise. "Do I look like a fucking killer?"

Will blinked. "What-"

"I'm not a killer. I'm not."

Before Will had a chance to say or do anything, he was shoved forward. It caught him so unprepared that he stumbled painfully to his knees - He immediately knew what was to follow. He barely managed to shout " _No!_ " Before gunshots filled the air around him. He turned to look behind his shoulder, and the body was already falling to the ground.

"No!" Will shouted. Screamed. "No! What have you done! You stupid--! What have you done?!" He wanted to run back, to help. Someone caught him and held him to a firm chest. Will fought. Even as his hands were freed from the zip-ties. He struggled.

Everything was spinning around him, people running, orders being shouted. Too many people, too fast, too much, too hard to bear. 

Someone grasped his face with both hands and forced his eyes away from the body dying on the floor, bleeding. Will sneered at the face looking at him with a stern expression. "I want you to look at me, and focus on my voice." It was an agent, wearing protective gear. His eyes were dark brown.

"No shit." Will barked a bitter laugh and made another attempt to free himself out of the arms still holding him, they didn't give, and he was frustrated with how weak he felt.

"I want you to relax, and focus on me."

"Fuck off-"

The floor met his face so fast it gave him a whiplash. It didn't hurt, but the shock of it left him breathless. A hand was firmly holding the nape of his neck, pinning his head. A large, warm body was covering him. The hand on his neck was the single point of pressure on his whole body, his hands were free, and so were his legs.

But Will couldn't move.

"Stay." Followed by a single squeeze, which then relaxed into something that was still firm, but more comfortable.

Like a fucking trained dog.

Tears in his eyes, and Will began to feel his throat closing around the shame, blocking air from coming in. He forced his hands to try and push him up, but the attempt was pathetic. He'd never seen someone using that hold on an omega intentionally.

Will first discovered the weakness his neck was holding for him when he was still in elementary-school, someone grabbed him in a friendly manner while playing ball, leaving Will paralyzed for a few confusing seconds. It was so sudden back then, and so frightening, that his friends were sure Will was having a seizure.    

Shoes were still running around him, but the body pinning him down didn't move. The other one who tried to help him focus earlier, hurried away. Black army boots jogging somewhere where he had something better to do.

Will tried to swallow, felt the wetness of his own tears reaching the floor and pooling under his cheek.

The body above him was heavy and warm, and Will felt safe despite everything. Hated himself for it. Instead of helping, it just made the tension in him grow and grow until every muscle in his body was sore. He didn’t know how long he was held like that, but when he saw polished high heeled shoes running in his direction, and he made the effort of lifting his eyes, he could see Alana's face, and how horrified she looked.

He didn't know what he felt more profoundly at that moment, hatred, or gratefulness. A good portion of both, probably.

"Let go of him at once." A familiar voice said, and Will's gaze shifted to the face of Alana's colleague, Hannibal.

Will was not at all happy to see him. But he wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore. Everything was so shaky and vulnerable in him at this moment that he felt raw. His guts open to the world to see.

"He was making trouble."

Hannibal didn't hesitate to kneel beside them. "Do I look like I'm interested in your excuse for holding him like that in the middle of the crime scene, after he went through a trauma?"

Will didn't know what the fucking asshole holding him could understand from Hannibal's blazing gaze, but what Will understood was that not only Hannibal cared - he cared so much he was prepared to pull a few teeth out of someone's face.

The hold left his neck, and all at once Will could breathe again. He was still pressed down, but it took merely a second before that was gone, too. He was left on the floor, head pressed between his elbows, hiding in the protection of his own hands, chin to chest. His knees came up, and he gasped around a single sob.

Something large and warm covered him, but it lacked a body-weight, or the effect of domination. It took Will a moment to realize it was a coat. Hannibal's.

Fucking whatever, Will used it to cover as much of himself as he could, hide his face from the world.

He stayed like that, shaking so much his whole body was trembling.

Hannibal stayed kneeling by him. Will was aware of his presence even though the haze to his sensations from the pills.

Alana stood somewhere in the background, shocked into silence.

How long did it take him to stop dry heaving and wishing to escape so hard he was willing to kill himself? Will didn't know. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedback on the previous chapter. I'd love to hear from you on this, too! :)


	3. Looking Forward

It was finally raining. More like, pouring down on earth from above as if someone just needed to pull the handle to release everything all at once.

Will felt himself mixing with the rain as it washed him. He felt himself being cleansed by it as he stood outside the mall and waited for someone to tell him what he should be doing next. The water felt so fresh on his face, he closed his eyes and opened his lips, just enough to let the drops in without drawing attention. When his clothes began to stick to his body from how wet they were, it didn't feel uncomfortable. It felt natural.

A pool, or even the sea, wouldn't have been able to make him feel this way. 

"Will." It was Alana, she was holding an open umbrella that kept her dry, but she didn't try to cover him with it.

Will looked at her, and he could see the worry in her eyes spreading out and infecting everything. All of a sudden, the rain just wasn't good enough to keep him standing there. The after-effects from the pills already faded. He wished they didn't.

"You're not going into shock, by any chance, are you?" She stepped closer, inspecting his face.

He tried to smile, it felt bitter, like his face didn't want to comply and go along with it. "I think I'm feeling better than I did in a long time."

When she didn't say anything, he began to question her motives. Why did she come to talk to him if she had nothing to say? He noticed the way she seemed to be struggling with herself. Alana was honest. Always honest. And when Alana didn't speak, or didn't know what to say, it was only because she felt guilty, and a guilty Alana made Will feel wary.

He looked up, behind her shoulder, and saw the unfamiliar man who was walking in their direction, his steps sure and his face set with determination. He was still a few yards away, but was walking fast enough to make Will feel alarm.

Confused, Will glanced at Alana.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you more. I needed to do more, it was my job. And I failed you, I'm sorry." Alana spoke. She looked sad.

Will's socks were wet, his toes cold. When he drew a breath, it went in his lungs crisp and left him feeling more alone than ever before. "Are you apologizing for something you did, or are you apologize for something that you plan to do in the future?"

The light in her eyes softened. "I guess that a little of both."

"Don’t apologize to me for the future, change it for me."

"I fear that is something that I cannot do."

Will wanted to grab her and shake her until she leaves that space in her head that justifies her actions. She was going to abandon him, just when he needed her the most. And for some reason, she thought it was okay.

"Will Graham, Jack Crawford." The man didn't wait, held his hand up for a shake. He was holding a black umbrella with his other hand, one big enough to cover his bulk. Will looked at the hand raised toward him, looked up to the man's chin.

They shook hands, briefly but firmly. The man named Jack had warm hands. And if he thought that Will's were cold, or wet, or shaky, or weak, he didn't comment on it and it didn't show on his face. "Hello." Will felt unsure of himself, and when he didn’t know what else to do with his own hands after the handshake, he put them in his pockets. It was an informal gesture, some would even say disrespectful, but Jack didn't seem to mind, and Will appreciated him for it. Jack also didn't seem bothered by Will's miserable, wet state. He wasn't in a hurry to guide the trio to a drier location.

"First, I'd like to apologize for the way you were treated right after the shooting. I asked my men what happened, and the explanations were not satisfying, to say the least. I hope it will be assuring to know that there will be several actions taken so that something like that won't ever happen again, neither to you nor anyone else."

Will gulped. "Thank you." He _was_ thankful to know that others realized how _wrong_ it was to treat another human beings as lesser than them, even if they were omegas.

"Now, I know that you are probably tired and needs to rest, but I wish to ask you a few questions before you go. I would greatly appreciate your cooperation, though you _should_ know that you are not bidden by any law, and can refuse the questioning, there are enough eye-witnesses for us to know what happened."

"Think about it before you answer." Alana spoke to him, as if she already knew what he's going to say, and wished he didn't.

Will considered, thought about the man's (he still didn't know the name of the man who pushed a gun against his face) last words. Will was curious. He hadn't felt curious about anything in a really long time, and it was hard to resist. "Okay." He agreed with a nod.

Alana sighed, and led them. They went into the mall together. Will could see several people waiting for them by a table in the small café near the entrance. He didn't recognize most of them, and was surprised to see Hannibal there as well.

"Will, I heard you already know Hannibal. Those are Agents Katz, Price, and Zeller." Each one of them either nodded in his direction, and in the case of the only woman, she also waved her hand in a friendly gesture.

"Heard you got yourself kidnapped." She lifted one clever eyebrow. "I hope you're alright there, that can be very traumatizing."

"I think I'm fine, now."

"As fine as can be, I suppose." One of the men said, he looked a little bit older than the other two. There was something surprisingly sympathetic about the way he gazed at Will's soaked form.

"Let's get this over with as fast as possible." The woman said. "So you can be free of us. I can only guess that answering questions is the last thing on your mind right now."

"Yes." Jack agreed with her as he sat down, motioning for Will to sit on the chair across the table. "We should."

Will sat down, Alana beside him.

"So, let's talk about everything that happened since the moment you left Alana's office."

Will took a moment to consider. He didn't know what type of information would be helpful. Was he supposed to share his emotions and inner thoughts? Was he supposed to just report dry facts and actions? He simply didn't know, and asking felt silly. "I walked until I reached the park near my apartment. Its's about… ten kilometers, I think I walked for an hour, maybe more, until I reached it." He waited for more questions, and when those didn't come he swallowed down, felt how dry his throat was.

Alana poured him a glass of water, as if sensing his discomfort. Will drank from it, grateful.

"I sat there. I took… ODP-"

"-Omega Daily Pills? I'm asking just to be certain." The woman investigator interrupted.

"…Yes." Will coughed a little, looked down to the table. Even though nobody said anything- in his head they were all blaming him for his stupidity. Thinking back, it was so easy to assume he had lacks of judgment because of the side-effects, maybe he wouldn't be able to give a trustworthy testimony because of that. ODPs were supposed to be taken at home, at least an hour before going out.

But the pills never lasted a whole day for Will, and he just… needed to block the world out. Without the pills it'd be so much harder to put a barrier between himself and everything else around him. Nothing would be as shallow and bland without them. Will could _taste_ better without them, and the flavor wasn't to his taste.

"He sat next to me on the bench, I didn't really pay him any mind." He continued. "He wasn't… threatening."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, leaning forward, as if getting closer will reveal something that Will was trying to hide.

"Even with the pills, I'm not… 'Sense blind' like some people get. I can… still… feel. I can, in lack of better terms, still _see_ the world."

"You mean your instinct don't quiet down, even with the pills."

"Yes, exactly. They are there, like a voice in my head, but with the pills it's easier to ignore them."

"Will has hyper-sensitivity. Compares to other omegas with emphatic tendencies, the world is like a very vivid painting of the inner layers of everything around him." Alana added, just to make sure nobody thought Will was exaggerating for the sake of drama. "By voices, he means the type of instinct that is so strong you just can't ignore. Just like avoiding bad smells or having a phobia, Will can sense intentions, and over time he can predict them to the point of almost understanding others, without really knowing them." She summed it up. _Very neat_.

Jack looked at him without blinking, he was waiting for something. Will wished he knew what that thing was, so he'd be able to pull it out of his pocket and make it all so much easier. Jack's expectation were crushing. Will always had a weaker back-bone around alphas. "And what did those voices say, when they talked about Allen Morse?"

 _So that was his name._ "Nothing. He was as insignificant as a bark of tree." Will admitted, truthfully.

Jack frowned at him. "At the beginning, this is what they told you _at the beginning_. And afterwards? When he held you with a gun to your head?"

"He said…" Will glanced at Alana, she smiled encouragingly. "Allen Morse said he wasn't the one who killed all those people. And I tend to believe him."

Silence.

"You _tend to believe him_?" Jack repeated, he sounded very close to devastated, and it was the most intense emotion he expressed since he first came to talk to Will.

"Yes."

"Do you know what Morse is suspected for?"

"No."

"So, please do tell me, what makes you believe him?"

Will couldn't stand Jack's tone of voice anymore, and he looked straight into man's eyes, just so that Jack would know he was serious. "I don't know _why_ you chased Morse around for, but I can _assume_ , considering the speed or your arrival, that it's something of the _dangerous_ nature.

"I'm an omega, I have hyper-empathy; I'm not _dumb_ because of it." He took a deep breathe, looked down to his glass of water. "And _no_ , I don't think someone like him is able to _kill_ anyone."

Jack leaned on the back-rest of the chair. He studied Will for a long moment. And finally, he said: "Zeller, bring out the case."

"Boss?"

"The case, bring it out."

Will saw the way the investigators exchanges glances between them, but the man named Zeller pulled out a stack of paper folders without farther complaining.

"Open it." Jack invited him.

" _Jack_." Alana sounded shocked, and angry. Angrier than Will had ever heard her. "What are you doing?"

"I want to hear Will's thoughts on this, and tell me what makes him believe Allen Morse is not guilty. Since this investigation has been running for _weeks_ without catching this guy, and since we have _the best_ people working on our team. I'm honestly curious."

Alana put her hand on the folders before Will could open any of them. "This is unethical on _so many levels_ I don't even know how to say it more clearly: No."

"What's wrong?" Jack lifted his eyebrows, his lips twitched.

Alana was glaring at him, fire in her bright eyes. "This is… This is despicable."

"I want to look." Will said, but the people around the table seemed to ignore him.

"I don't see how that's unethical, to ask for another point of view on an open case. Are you saying Will can't handle it?"

"I'm saying you are crossing every boundary-"

"-I think its fine-" Will tried again.

"-You're treating him as if he's fragile-"

"-And you are bullying him into-"

"-If I might add." A voice spoke up, and managed to draw the attention of everyone. "I think Will is trying to signal that he wishes to open the case, Alana. And with all due respect, Jack, if you decided to let Will give his opinion- you are now under the debt of listening to him." Hannibal's head tinted to the side, just a tiny bit. He looked engaged, even if bored. His eyes were fixed on Will's hands on the folder Alana kept shut.  

Jack's mouth opened, close. Opened again. "…Yes indeed."

Alana pulled back her hand, but she didn't hide the way she was, by this point, furious with what was happening.

Will felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. He'd never seen anyone pulling Alana along as Jack managed to do. He'd never thought he'd sit between a highly degreed psychiatrist and a high-profile head of a team of criminologists in the FBI and watch them squabble like two squirrels and a hazelnut.

He swallowed, and felt everyone's eyes on him as he opened the first folder on top. The tension in the air was suffocating, Will tried very hard to keep his hands steady. There was nothing he could do with the sweat, though.

The first paper was a report, he began to read it, then decided that the time consummation wasn't worth the bother, and put it aside on the table. He flipped papers along, until he reached the first picture.

It was a crime scene, obviously. Well, not _so_ obviously. Will stared at it in complete fascination for a few seconds, before he even noticed the gory details, and then realized that the man was _dead_. The fact that it was a crime scene made it look marred, less pure, and therefore less beautiful because if it. A man lying side-way on a wooden chair, his head thrown back and legs almost touching the surface of the water. The chair was placed on a shallow spot in a small lake full of lilies, his stomach open and his intestines falling carelessly between his knees into the water.  

"What did it look like?" the question was out of Will's mouth before he could distract himself from the curiosity.

"You have the picture in your hand." Jack answered.

"This picture doesn't do justice. This should have been taken from above. Was there a high point somewhere around the lake?"

When only silence greeted him, he looked up. He was expecting everyone to be still looking at him, but what he saw was much more confusing. Jack was glaring daggers at his three investigators, who were looking back at him with deer eyes.

"There was a water tower… near the scene." Zeller coughed and looked out the window of the café.

"Yes, there was." Jack agreed, but he sounded more like he was scolding them.

"It's hard to see from this angle." Will continued, still looking between Jack and his three workers. "But I think the man was…" Will pulled out all of the pictures and spread them on the table. "He was holding a flower, I don't know the name of it, but I've seen it in the past."

"Bird of paradise." The woman investigator said and nodded her head. "It's poisonous."

"Does it have any meaning?" Will asked.

"It's symbolizes freedom and long lasting romantic relationships."

"Quite the contrast." Will hummed under his breathe. "It can't be both. It's either one of them."

"I… don't see where the contrast lies." Will recognized Zeller's voice, and he glanced up to meet his eyes.

"You're either free, or you are in a relationship, it's not the same thing."

"Sometimes relationships give us the security to set ourselves free." Hannibal mused. "What is freedom if not the confidence that no matter what we do, no harm will come to us?"

"No matter." Will greeted his teeth. "It’s not the case here."

"This man and Allen Morse were lovers." The third investigator, who spoke the least, added. "We assumed the victim was holding it to symbolize a relationship that didn't last, and Morse wanted to-"

"No." Will couldn't help but release a bark of laughter. He shoved the pictures to the farther corner of the table, not caring for the mess he was making.

He opened the next folder.

Will stared. "Was she Morse's lover, too?"

"Just tell us what you see." Jack frowned at him. It made Will's smile wipe off his face very efficiently.    

Will forced himself to look, and focus. He tried to ignore anything around him, any distractions. The woman was lying on her side, she looked like she was sleeping peacefully, but the white petals around her were painted red with her blood. "Like the queen of hearts." Will smiled. _Clever_. "Why would someone see you as the queen of hearts?"

"She was the CEO where Morse used to work ten years ago. She's been the CEO for the last twenty years, until she was murdered about seven months ago." Jack said. "We were told that she was a not well liked by anyone, many potential enemies."

"It should have been taken from above, as well." Will continued. "Was there anything high around?"

This time when he glanced up, everyone _did_ stare at him.

"Uhm." Zeller released a voice, and pointed at one of the pictures.

It was blurry, but could be recognized as another water tower.

"I'll be damned." Will could hear the wonder, mixed with desperation, choking Jack's voice and leaving it low and raspy.

"Was Morse a worker in water towers?"  Will asked even as he shoved the pictures away, they mixed with the pictures from the previous case, but Will decided he didn't care much.

Jack answered him as he opened the next case in the pile. "No."

"I see."

The next picture he saw was of another woman. "Have you noticed they were all naked?"

"Yes."

"I think he wished to strip them of something, and he chose to do it literally. Why would he do such a thing?"

Jack lifted an eyebrow. "I don't know, is it really important?"

Will considered the question. "I think that the killer you are searching for was looking at them and thinking that something in them didn't add up. He had to know them personally in order to do that." Will bit his lip, maybe more harshly than he should. "He might have known something about his victims that we do not."

"What makes you think so?"

Will turned the picture so the rest of the table would be able to see.

The woman was sprawled on a bed of flowers, forget me nots. "Whoever this is, he… likes drama, likes the symbolism. Forget me nots are flowers of long lasting love? You said something similar about the bird of paradise. White roses turning red? I can guess it has some kind of connection to it, too."

"This guy has a fascination with love."

"He's a romantic." Will nods his head in agreement. "Was Morse described by his friends as a romantic?"

"Quite the opposite, actually." The woman investigator added in. "He was said to be a very lonesome, unfriendly character. Not the day-dreaming type."

"So The killer is a romantic, that doesn't explain why he'd murder those people."

"Maybe they had something he wished for himself."

Everyone had their eyes glued to Will when he opened the rest of the folders, one by one, pulling out the pictures. All of the crime scenes were either in secluded places, and there was always a higher point\a tower nearby. All the victims held in their hands flowers connected to long lasting/passionate love. All were artistically arranged.

"He wanted to enjoy the picture he was creating, but not only that, it's as if he was using his _art_ as a blessing. I think he was trying to receive… the gift that those people had."

"That doesn't fit Morse's profile."

"Some of them might be connected to Morse on some level, simply because they were all in the area where he lived. They were his neighbors, lovers, bosses, but… he didn't kill them."

"Who do we need to look for?"

"It's just a guess." Will paused. "But, you somehow got the idea that Morse was the killer, how did you reach that conclusion?"

"By connecting the victims, and by testimonies of people who knew him."

"Is there a chance that someone close to him also knew all those people almost as well as Morse did, if not more? And lead you astray deliberately? What was the first testimony that made you point a finger at Morse, instead of everyone else?"

"There could be a co-worker." Jack said. "We need to re-arrange the testimonies and see where the turning point was.

"Maybe not something so… on the surface." Will tried. "Maybe something we'll discover only by stripping the killer down, as he did to his victims."

"You mean, a dirty secret of his? Something to do with love?"

"Maybe, I'm really not sure. There's a chance everything I'm saying is complete bullshit."

"It's good enough for me." Jack said, as if waiting for someone to dare step up and say it was not true.

"Okay." Will took a deep breathe.

"Thank you, what you told us might save a lot of people's lives in the future."

"You're welcome." Will was suddenly a little bit overwhelmed with the positive attention. He spoke his mind, and people actually _listened_. It was weird, combined with this strange sensation in his chest, like his heart was swelling up. He was too afraid to call it pride.

"Do you need Will for anything else? Or he can go now?" Alana asked, and reminded everyone that Will was after a long day of stress without even saying it aloud.

"I think it's enough for today, for Will, at least." Hannibal added.

Will didn't appreciate the over protectiveness. He wanted to say something about being a person with wills of his own. But before he could manage to come up with anything smart to say about it, Jack was up on his feet, gathering the files messily into his hands. The three investigators from the FBI followed him in their thanks, goodbyes, and hasty retreat outside to the black vans waiting for them.

"I'll take you home." Alana turned to Will.

"It's fin-"

"-You have other appointments today, Alana, if you don't mind. I can take Will home. And of course, if Will doesn't mind."

Will blinked. "I can get home by myself just fine."

"Nonsense." Hannibal smiled. "It's no trouble at all."

"I didn't say it was any tr-"

"My car is just outside."

Will frowned. "I can _walk._ "

"Please Will, let Hannibal go with you." Alana touched his arm. Her hand was soft and warm.

"….okay."

"Very good." Hannibal got up from the chair, and gathered his coat.

They parted ways with Alana. And Will was left standing awkwardly as Hannibal pulled the car out of the parking.

When they were driving, the silence stretched, Will could feel it sitting on his skin.

"You were very impressive." Hannibal said. And Will almost jumped by the sound of his voice, so unexpected and out of the blue.

"It was nothing."

"It was _not_ nothing. For someone so young, who never dealt with criminology? I was left to wonder what you would be like when you turn professional and experienced."

Will was so embarrassed, he couldn't look anywhere but at his own hands, resting on his knees. "I don't think I can handle it as a profession."

"It sounds like you are repeating something that someone else told you."

Will drew in a breath. "I'm… I don't think I'll fit in with something so… big, like the FBI."

They stopped under Will's apartment, and Hannibal turned to face him in the car. "I think you'll be marvelous."

There was heat creeping up the nape of Will's neck. "I'm. Thanks. Bye."

He practically jumped out of the car and forced himself to not run up the stairs, at least until he was out of view.   


	4. Fast Forward In Life

A knock on the door aroused Will from the dreamy morning he had. It wasn't dreamy in a good way, it was more… full of grave thoughts kind of dreamy. Maybe _gloomy_ was the right word for it.

When he opened the door, he expected to see only one person, Margot. It was her, so he didn't even act surprised or glad to see her, he just blinked and retreated back into the room.

Margot was already so familiar with this space, and she was so used to Will's moods, she didn't bother to say hello, or say… anything at all. She looked around the almost completely dark studio room. Then she walked over to the nearest window and opened the blinds.

Will went to hide in the kitchen until Margot was finished with the cleansing ceremony she had the urge to have every time she stepped into Will's apartment. She opened all the blinds and windows (letting the noise from the outside intensify to the point that Will couldn't hear himself thinking, he tolerated that only for her sake), she turned on the lights around the murky areas, no matter that no-one currently used them, like the bathroom (a waste of electricity), She dust-cleaned around (why even bother when Will was going to do it himself eventually… approximately the next week or the week after that). The only thing Margot didn't do was organize or move things around. Every chair, sofa, bed, and table were exactly where he first put them when he entered this apartment two years ago. Will wasn't the type to leave his empty cups in every-which location, he wasn't the type to suddenly wish to watch TV from a different angle (he didn't own a TV). Will wasn't the type to re-arrange the apartment whenever he had visitors, since his only visitors in the last two years were Margot and Alana.   

Eventually, Margot wanted to do the same in the kitchen, and Will found himself fleeting to his own bed and sitting on it, trying to be as out of the way as possible.

It took extra ten minutes until Margot was mentally available for a conversation, now that she had run out of things that bother her and she can do something to change them. She was left with Will, who didn't bother her (at least Will wished to think so) and who she couldn't really change.

Margot observed him, still standing by the entrance to the tiny kitchen. "If you want to stay out of an Institution's apartment you need to keep up with group therapy for a while."

Will felt his back straightening. "You came all the way here to tell me that?"

"I heard talk. Some people think that you're drawing too much attention, roaming free as you are."

"For fuck's sake. Now it’s my fault?"

"It's always the victim's fault, don't you know?" She said that in that melodic way that was so _Margot_ , it made Will smile grimly. "Maybe that girl wore her skirt too short, maybe that boy shouldn't have wandered into the bushes alone. Maybe that little omega needs to be watched more closely… Things like that." She wasn't smiling, but her eyes were gleaming with a spark of bitterness that only a true victim of injustice could understand.

Will huffed, the smile creeping up his cheeks without his permission. "So, good behavior to be kept out of the cage?"

"Good behavior to be kept on a longer leash."

"That would be more accurate, yes."

Margot moved to sit next to him on the bed. "Hmmm." Her lips twitched upward. She lifted her hand to Will's hair and ruffled it. Will was sure his hair was a mess to begin with, but Margot had a kink for boys with messy hair, Will knew it, and so he let he do as she pleased. "Take off your shirt." She said. "It's offensive."

Will looked down at his basic tank top. "It's just a shirt."

"It's offensive."

Will rolled his eyes, but took it off all the same.

Margot didn't touch him sexually. Not all of their encounters had to be about sex.

They both craved intimacy, they both lacked it from everybody else around them. They both found each other. Two fish swimming in the Atlantic Ocean and stumbling upon one another by chance alone.

"Does every omega out of the institution cause so much trouble, like I do?"

Margot chuckled. "No way. Little snowflake. I've met a lot of omegas in my life, naturally, but no one as troublesome as you."

"I don't see myself as vulnerable, like all the other little omegas you get to meet, maybe that's why I _draw so much attention_."

She nodded. "Not all the cute omegas in the IPAO see themselves as vulnerable victims, sometimes they just see the world as a dick-hole."

Will laughed, he could feel it in his belly. A laugh that comes from the heart.

"Actually," He said. "When I think about it, I've never met an omega out of the institution. I mean, before I was brought in I've met around… four."

"You lived in small towns."

"Yeah."

"The population of omegas in the United States is really small compares to other countries."

"You make us sound like… white-whales."

"In Mexico there are twice as many omegas, compares to the size of the population in general."

Will had to pause for a moment to take the information in. "That's quite… amazing. Why does it happen?"

"Biological reasons?" Margot shrugged. "Maybe we as a nation are more stressed? Have less sex? Have less fun? Have less sun?"

"I see all those factors as one and the same."

"Yeah."

"Does Alana teach you that stuff?"

"I actually open the internet from a time to time and _read stuff_ , you know. Things normal people do."

"I'm not normal."

"No, you're not."

"I mean, out of being an omega."

Margot rolled her eyes at him. "Being normal, or not normal, is not about being an omega, or an alpha, or a beta. It is about being who you are."

"What am I?" Will asked.

"And what am I?" Margot shot back sarcastically.

"You're beta, you're a woman. Awfully beautiful. Very snarky. Very mysterious."

"You're Will Graham, that kid who turned into a grown-up kid. Who, without his pills, look at people and merge with their version of truth so well that he can kill someone because someone else wanted to do it first." She said it matter of fact, but it stung like nothing did in a very long while.

Will didn't know what to say after that. And so an awkward silence stretched between them.

"I'm sorry." Margot looked down to her own hands, now resting on her laps.

"No matter, don't worry about it. It doesn't offend me, those words." Will said, mostly to encourage her to not feel as guilty as she did. Her guilt left a bad taste in his mouth, a creeping sensation of something that was crawling up his breathing path and making him feel vile on the back of his throat, when it wasn't really there.

"It's not true." Margot's voice was shaking, and it made Will alert with worry. "You're not dangerous like the institution wants everyone to believe, you're your _own_ person. You're not… a bottle full of other people. You are _you_. It's so wrong, what they make out of you. I'm sorry. I guess it angers me so much that I had to say it myself, but it didn't really come out as I thought it would. I don't think so, Will. I really don't."

"Thank you." 

"You're not going to be back with Alana, in Alana's sessions, I mean."

"Was it already decided?" Will wondered at how sometimes things dragged on for months because of bureaucracy, and sometimes things just clicked themselves into place within days.

Politics.

"Yup. It wasn't decided who is going to be your next psychiatrist, though. I'll tell you if I hear anything about it."

"I'm sure there are many waiting in line for the opportunity."

"You'll be surprised." Margot smiled. Then her faced turned more serious. "We won’t stop seeing each other, just because you're not going to come to Alana's office anymore, are we?"

"No, we won't stop."

"Okay."

"That's why you came here?"

"Yes." She smiled at him, and for once, her expression was open.

*

*

*

Group therapy was a bore. Will waited for his turn to speak, knowing it would come eventually. The group guide, the one who turned out to be a patient in the neighboring IPAA, was glancing at him once every few moments. Will was trying to ignore him in return, but their eyes caught a few times, which kind of ruined the front he was trying to put.

"So, Will." The group guide said, tapping his thighs.  

_Oh no._

"Would you like to share the events of the passing weak with us?"

"Not really." Will rubbed his thumb on the fabric of his worn jeans, feeling the tiny rise and fall of the knitting. It resembled waves in the sea, and it calmed him and helped him blank his mind.

"Really? Nothing significant happened? Or even something small you'd like to share?" The guide wrote something in his notebook, and suddenly Margot's words came back to him. _Be good or be caged, Will, it's totally up to you._

"I was kidnapped, well, sort of."

Stray faces around the circle began to turn in his direction. Some surprised, some passively staring, some honestly interested in what he has to say.

"Why do you choose to describe it as _sort of_?" The guide encouraged him with a nod of his head.

"I don't think it was kidnapping, I mean, It kind of was. But I wasn't very intimidated by it. And looking back, I don't find it terrifying."

"Not every unusual event that happens to us needs to scare us just because this is the reaction others expect from us." The guide said. He spoke to the whole group, teaching a lesson through Will's story. Will wondered if he learned that technique in the group therapies _he_ encountered. "Sometimes things happen, and maybe we expected them to, maybe we didn't, but what _we_ feel is _our right_. Maybe talking to strangers won't scare most people, but some of us find it impossible."

Will saw how some of the other omegas nodded their heads. He was reminded of American movies with church scenes.

"Please Will, continue."

"I…" Will paused. "I don't really know what to say. There wasn't much that happened."

"How were you separated from you kidnapper, in the end?"

Will liked the choice of words. _Separated from your kidnapper_ , it was purely non-judgmental, and showed sincerity. The only reason Will was going to humour him, was because he appreciated how much this guy honestly gave a fuck about the lot of them. "The FBI arrived. They shot him."

"Would you like to share how that made you feel?"

"I felt… sorry for him."

"For the man who you said kidnapped you?"

"Yeah."

"And why is that?"

"He wasn't listened to. And it cost him his life, for nothing."

"Was that really so?"

"Yes, it turned out he was wanted for killing all bunch of people, but he wasn't really the killer."

"And the FBI found that out only after killing him?"

"Yes."

"Did they find it out because of something that happened?"

Will swallowed. "I told them. And when they didn't believe me, I showed them."

The guide stopped writing notes at some point, all of his attention on Will. "You proved it to them? How?"

"They let me look at the case." Will leaned back in his chair, and was fascinated to see the guide mirroring his new position. "Then I showed them all the things they missed, before."

"And they listened to you, then?"

"Yes."

"It must have felt good, to be listened to, finally."

"Yes, yes it did." Will realized it was true, and something he didn't have a name for, shifted in his chest. "Someone told me I could be good at it. I could work in the FBI and help them find other killers. Maybe… maybe I could… I don't know."

"Prevent them from shooting the wrong guys in the future? Help them listen to those nobody wants to listen to?"

 _He understood_. "Yes." Will breathed.

"And you don't find it as a reminder of what happened to you as a teenager?"

"Uhm." Will looked down at his hands, rubbed his fingers against each other. "It won't be same."

"Wouldn't it?"

"No, because, I won't have to… come on contact with those people. I will work… from the shadows. I won't have to go out to the field."

"And that makes all the difference for you?"

"I'm not sure."

There was silence then, it wasn't an uncomfortable one, but Will didn't like it at all.

"Maybe you can try. Do you know how to contact the one who made you that offer?"

"He didn't really make an offer, he just said he thought I'd be good at it, is all."  Will's face frowned at the thought of calling Hannibal on the phone and saying something like ' _hey, remember telling me I'll be fucking marvelous at catching serial killers? I think marvelous fits me._ '

"I can help you with that, if you'd like."

Will actually _met_ the man's eyes, saw that blue of them. Those eyes didn't make his instincts sing and his shoulders tense. Will… relaxed all at once.

"That… Thank you, I'll think about it."

The group guide smiled. "Of course." He turned a page in his notebook, turned his gaze a little bit to the left. "Anna, what about you? How was your vacation with your mother in the weekend?"

*

*

Before going back to his apartment, Will stopped by the mini-market.

The girl at the cashier blinked at him and smiled, her cheeks turning a little bit pink.

Will blinked back. "Hi." He said softly.

She just nodded and her eyes glued themselves down to her phone.

Will wondered at the weird behavior as he stepped over to the corner where the frozen pizza met the packed meat. He didn't touch anything, just glanced at the prices, to see if there was any sale he needs to know about.

He was there for about fifteen minutes before someone suddenly came up to him. "Hi, it's a weird question I know, but… do we know each other? You seem awfully familiar."

Will didn't recognize the man, and all his defenses shot up in a second. "No." He rasped.

"Swear I feel like we've met." The man continued. He had a healthy bear, large beer belly, a mop of black hair, and two black eyes staring at Will's face in deep concentration. "Though that would be unlikely, don't think I know that many omegas, or at all."

"I don't know you, sorry." Will stepped back, and the man noticed.

"Shit, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. I'll leave you alone now. I apologize." The man left towards the entrance, and all at once Will felt guilty. It wasn't the man's fault that Will was so skittish. Will couldn't help but think that maybe the man didn't even finish gathering everything he intended to buy, and now he'd have to walk to another mini-market, just because Will was in this one, and apparently driving people away.

A woman was staring at him. Will noticed her when he turned around to walk to the vegetable's section.  

Paranoia took hold. And Will didn't want to be staying around anymore.

When he was walking by the girl, she whispered: "Hey."

Will halted, looked at her. He felt his heart beating like a hammer all the way to the back of his throat.

The girl looked at him with wide eyes for a moment. "There's this article about you, you need to check it out. Maybe it would be safer to wear sunglasses around here for a while."

It was more than she said to him in a whole month put together.

"Thanks." Will hurried out and up the stairs.

When he entered his apartment, he hurried over to shut all the blinds, covering the studio in its comfortable darkness.

He didn't know what else to do, so he called Alana.

She didn't answer.

"Out of all times." Will began to curse, both in his head and out loud. He was pacing around his apartment. His hands were shaking so much he didn't think they would ever stop. He didn't know what the article about him said, what it meant.

He called Margot.

"Will?"

"Someone just told me there is this article about me? Some stranger walked up to me and asked me if he knows me… what… what is happening?"

"Hey, calm down. No harm done. This stranger, he didn't harass you or anything, did he?"

"No." Will tried to breathe in deep, and let it out slow, all it did was made him feel like he was chocking.

"Okay, that's good." _How?_ "Alana is in a session right now and her phone is probably inside her office, so she can't answer you for the next thirty minutes. Is this an emergency Will? Should I go inside and tell her you need her help?"

"I don't know." It wasn't fair to be upset with Margot for staying so calm, but Will kind of wanted to just hang the phone without saying goodbye and drop it into the toilet. She wasn't helping, and it made him feel like she wasn't any wiser than him, had no way to help him, really.

The only two people he knew were Margot and Alana. Alana was in a session, Margot was unhelpful.

"Is there anything else I can do for you until Alana finishes the sessions?"

"Do you have the phone number of my group therapy guide?"

"Yeah sure, I'll give it to you, just a second."

Will wrote the number down, and hesitated only for a moment before making the call.

"Hello?"

"Hi." Will suddenly realize he _didn't know the man's name_.

"…Hello, can I help you?"

"This is Will Graham."

"Will." All at once the tone of voice changed. Turned warmer. "What happened?"

 _No small talk, no 'how are you doing'._ Will's gratefulness swelled in his chest. "A… neighbor just told me there is this article about me? I don't even know what it's about, but some stranger in the mini-market under my apartment came up to me and asked me if he knows me, and this woman was staring at me like I'm a freak-"

"Whoa whoa Will, stop. Breath. I'm here, right on the other side of the line, yeah?"

"Yes."

"I'm listening to you, I hear you, you hear me, yeah?"

"I hear you."

"Yeah that's right. Are you in your apartment right now?"

"Yes."

"Need me to come pick you up? I have a session with my psychiatrist in about… an hour. You mind coming to the IPAA with me? You can hang out in the cafeteria if you'd like."

It was so many details and so much to think about in one sentence, it distracted Will from his panic, just enough for him to say "Yes." And only then consider the consequences. So when his group guide ended the call after taking his address and telling him he was coming to pick him up with his car, Will was left in the middle of his dark apartment, staring at the wall with the phone at his ear and his mouth hanging a little open.

*

The guide's name was Mark (Will saw his driver license sit beside his cigarettes in the space between the front seats of his car.)

Their first stop was at an ice cream shop. While they were standing in line, Mark smiled at him. "Feeling a little better?"

They were in public, and Will's senses were on overload, even with the pills still in his system from this morning. Kids were running around and bumping with him every few moments. Everything was so _loud_. "I…don't know."

"It's okay. We'll talk about it more later. But first, ice cream."

*

"Do you take everyone in our group to eat ice-cream whenever they call you?"

"Sometimes. Some of them call me almost every day, so it will be a little bit on the side of too much. But once a month, yeah sure. Some of them had never called me yet, like you. Not all of them really want to be in the group therapy, they are there only because it's a requirement for something else they need."

"This doesn't seem to bother you."

"Nah." They walked. They were not far from the IPAA now, the car parked along the main road a few yards away. "I'm not pretentious enough to believe I can reach everyone. These things take time. You, for example, what made you change your mind about sharing today?"

"A little bird told me that if I won't make an effort to cooperate in the future, they're going to put me back in institution's apartments."

"The IPAO is the 'they'?" They exchanged glances. When Will didn't answer, Mark went on. "We all need to be supported by someone else, no matter how strong we are. None of us can survive as a lone predator in this world." He smiled, and something behind his eyes shifted. Will could guess there was a personal story behind that line. It poked at his curiosity, but he couldn't make himself ask. "But in order to find someone like that, someone who can not only accept us- but… anchor us. We need to give something up in return. It's not easy."

"No, I guess not." Mark's words made a lot of sense. Will watched the dirt and age-stains on the sidewalk as he continued to eat his ice-cream in silence. He wasn't a man of sweat food, but the sugar and the coldness were like a shock to his system that forced him out of the quiet of his own mind. It made his awareness turn _outside_.

"Do you want to look that article up? There are computers in the IPAA's library. At least you'll know what it is."

"Yes, that's a good idea." Will was glad he called Mark, who seemed to not only be very helpful, but a companion to his doubts. Will felt like Mark knew all about the small worries in his head about the IPAO and about his life in general, without Will ever voicing them out loud.

*

*

The article was horrible.

It was about Will.

Well, it was about the whole 'kidnapping and shooting' incident in the mall the previous Friday.

But mostly, it was about Will. There were picture of his from different angles, talking to the FBI. Even…. There was a picture of his pointing down and making hand gestures at the pictures from the files Jack Crawford showed him.

"Fucking shit."

"Looks pretty shitty, yeah."

Will rubbed at his own forehead. "What am I supposed to do, now?" The panic, which rested its head down up until this moment, raised again and was throbbing behind his eyes, blocking his throat, making him feel tired.

"Maybe the FBI can help you, since they were the ones to put you in trouble in the first place, not catching this guy, then catching him and it turns out he's _the wrong guy_ and all of that. By the way, is it true that you were the one to point it out to them?"

"Yes, and how… how did it get out? How did, whoever it was that wrote this, know?"

"I have no idea, really."

"This is fucking… fuck." Will leaned his elbows on the table. A pressure was building, a beginning of a headache.

Too many alphas around. _Too many_. The whole building. It was like Will could sense every each one of them.

He needed to take his pills again soon.

"I can ask my psychiatrist for help. He works with the FBI, I can… Actually, I see him in this picture. Yeah, that's him."

Will raised his face from his own hands to watch Mark pointing straight at Hannibal's face in a profile, half hidden by one if the windows of the café. Will's mind went blank. "Hannibal?"

"Yeah, I'm seeing him in twenty minutes. Maybe he'll be free after my session? I'll drop a word from you. Hang around for an hour or so, I still have a few things to ask of you before you go, anyway."

"I think I need to take my pills again."

Mark paused, looked at him. Then his mouth formed a silent 'oh' and his eyes widened. He leaned in, a little bit too close to Will's face. "What, you're senses are up?"

Will nodded weakly. "Nothing too bad, but it will be, in an hour."

Mark was looking at him, too close for comfort. Will frowned. Mark looked like he really wanted to say, or do something. The light in his eyes shifted again, this time Will was more aware of it. Will could feel the air between them charge with new tension. Mark leaned so close Will could feel his breath ghost over his lips.

It sent a _zing_ all the way down to his tail bone and he gasped, leaning back, finding out he can’t, because at some point he leaned all the way back in his chair while Mark continued to lean farther in.

"I wonder…" Mark began, hesitated. "What are you like without all those pills?"

"Don't think about it." Will grimaced. The hair on the nape of his neck was standing.

"Even you scent changed."

"Mark." Will was afraid that if he'd glance away Mark would take that chance to close whatever distance was left between their lips. "You have a session with Hannibal, remember? You don't want to be late."

It was a single moment when Will thought Mark was going to do something… he wasn't given permission to do, like kiss him, before Mark straightened in his own chair and looked at his watch.

The air turned colder. It was like Will's body missed the closeness.

 _Pills_.

"I really need to go." Mark sighed.

"I'll be…" Will drew in a single breath. Held it. "I'll be in the IPAO."

"Okay." Mark smiled at him before getting up. "I'll talk to Dr. Lecter for you."

"Thanks."

After Mark left, it took Will a few seconds to gather his scattered mind. He could blame everything that just happened solely on the fucking pills. _His fucking biology_. Will hurried to get out of the IPAA and almost jogged to the nearest bathrooms in the building of the IPAO, a hundred yards east. He took two pills together, closed the seat of the toilet. He had… one hour and ten minutes, enough for most of the after effects to fade out until Mark finished his session.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, pretty much literally fast forward. I'm anxious to get to the meaty parts of the story, and all this plot at the beginning is... sadly, necessary for that. No worries, the next chapters are going to be much more satisfying in the Hannibal department.


	5. Black Coffee

 

"Hello, Will."

Will blinked his eyes open. He found himself sitting on a public bench in the park near the IPAO. Hannibal was standing right in front of him, looking down. Will winced when he made an attempt to lift his head from the back-rest of the bench. He must have drifted off, he had to stop doing that in public.

His neck creaked and his muscles complained. Will tried to act like it didn't bother him for a second, before giving up about that and rolling his shoulders to loosen them up a little. Rubbing at the nape of his neck, Will rasped a "Hello." Before falling into a cough.

"I fear it is too cold today for roaming outside for long, without a proper coat."

"I like the freshness of the cold air." Will said, mostly sarcastic.

"It _is_ refreshing, when you breathe it and the rest of your body is protected... Under a coat."

Will glanced up at Hannibal and knew that some of his inner disdain was showing on his face. Looking down to the sidewalk under his feet, he wondered what he looked like, sleeping there. Was his face open and vulnerable? Did he look younger, like people often did while sleeping? Was Hannibal standing there for a few minutes, hesitating before waking him up? Besides. Hannibal's annoying comment was right, he shouldn't have been falling asleep on public benches in the middle of community parks at this time of the year.

But Will couldn't recall exactly how he got there, and he hadn't had a proper night-sleep for the last few weeks, and he was years from admitting all of that to the ears of someone he didn't know and didn't trust enough. "I think I'll go grab some coffee in the cafeteria now."

"Mind if I join you?"

Well, that sure made Will pause, for a moment, and then: "Uhm, no. Sure, come along." He didn't really have a reason to refuse, and even _he_ wasn't bold enough to brush someone he already knew off so obviously and rudely. If Hannibal wasn't a close colleague of Alana, if he wasn't Mark's psychiatrist, if he wasn't the one who offered to drive Will home after the kidnapping happened… Will would have had allowed himself to answer differently.

There was silence between them as they walked together along the sidewalk in the park. Hannibal was close, and even through the numbness of the pills, Will could sense his presence like an electric generator releasing waves of power around it. Will squirmed with the awkwardness of it. While Hannibal seemed to be immune to awkward situations as a whole, which was somehow making the situation even harder to bear with. Will just wished for the man to say whatever he came to say, and then leave.

It didn't happen, Hannibal didn't say anything, not even after they entered the cafeteria five minutes of walking awkwardly and silently together later.

Will bought coffee, He was gambling on it, since the workers were changing a lot lately and every time the coffee tasted a little different, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. While he approached Hannibal, who was standing by the glass fridge, Will saw the way he gazed at the line of sandwiches with blankness to his face. He couldn't help but observe Hannibal's suit, guess that it was expensive (Will had no idea how to differentiate between expensive and cheap suits). Hannibal probably never even bought anything in any cafeteria, ever. Will was silent about it, and Hannibal waited patiently with him until his name was called by the barista.

Hannibal turned and began to _lead_ them towards the windows, Will almost stopped in place and walked in another direction, just for a fuck of it. For some reason, it seemed to be so inappropriate and disrespectful that he couldn't bring himself to actually do it.

"The design of this building is much more open at some places, and so private and close at others." Hannibal said, arranging his coat on the back of the chair he was going to sit on.

"Is it not that way in the IPAA?" Will hadn't noticed, honestly, when he was talking to Mark earlier that day he was too occupied with listening to the man talk, that he didn't really pay attention to anything else around them, much less the architecture choices.

"It's much more balanced. Both the public spaces _and_ the private ones don't have much of a different in the height of the ceiling, or the sizes of the room. Too open spaces mean a lot more people who can see, hear, and sense each other. Small spaces mean intimacy, while sometimes it means you share a small space with someone you might not like very much. It puts alphas on edge."

Will sipped on his coffee, it wasn't half bad. "Did you ever had fights, or violence, in the IPAA?" Swallowing a sigh. Just five minutes ago, Will felt the silence sitting heavly on his chest, now he wished it would return. He gazed out of the window even as Hannibal went on with the conversation.

"Every day. Sadly, the type of people who are patients at the IPAA went through situations that forced their hands in unspeakable ways. This is what their mind knows would help them survive, and until they are given a proof of the existence of other options, they will go on."

"It must be hard for them, when it feels like they are the only ones who seem to follow their own inner logic. They have a set of rules that is different from everybody else's."

Will could feel the way Hannibal was looking at him, his own eyes went down, watching his fingers as they played with the paper cup and turning it around in his hands. "It is hard, at the beginning." Hannibal said, his tone of voice carefully engaging. "But they learn to play by everyone else's rules, eventually."

A laugh, Will scratched at the stubble itching on his chin. He had to remind himself to shave it later. "Pretend. They learn to pretend."

"What do you think about pretending, Will?"

The question was odd, but not unexpected, reminding Will he was having a conversation with a psychiatrist. "… It's getting lonely, after a while. You need to be really connected with your inner self, and remind yourself who you really are, in order to stay… real, under all the layers."

"How nice would it be, if all of us could peel some of our own layers."

"Yeah." Will looked up. Hannibal's lips were tipping up in a barely-there smile. Will couldn't hold his own tiny smile back. "Though, sometimes what's waiting inside is… destructive, at best."

"You know a lot about destructive inner layers, don’t you?"

Will felt sweat gathering between his shoulder blades, his mouth growing dry. He sipped on the coffee, it was beginning to get cool. "Yes." No reason to deny it.

"When you revealed Morrison's inner layers, did you hesitate before shooting him?"

Blinking, Will leaned back in his chair. He hadn't heard that name spoken out loud in _years_. "No." He wasn't sure what made it easier to answer that question, in the middle of the IPAO cafeteria, with Hannibal. Maybe the pills, maybe the understanding light in Hannibal's eyes, maybe the way Hannibal didn't seem to treat this issue as a sore spot.

Maybe no one ever asked him this question before now, and Will had no way of comparing.

"What did it feel like, to suddenly realize you neighbor was a serial killer?"

Will was wondering about this exact same question ever since he saw the expression on Morrison's face shift, ever since he made a decision to fight, instead of surrender.

When he shot the bullet between Morrison's terrifyingly lighten eyes, Will lost a part of himself, there was no question about it, he could feel something inside breaking and not returning to be whole again. Instead of emptying him - the cracks in his heart were filled with something else. Something dark that had no name, something the crawled outside and showed its claws from a time to time.

It was rearing up on its hind legs and snorting in content. Hannibal was very close to stepping inside its territory.

"A sensation of something crawling up my throat and all the way down my spine, until my fingers were tingling with adrenaline and rage." Will could remember it oh, so clearly, it didn't fade out over the years- the memory. If anything, he feared that one day _he_ will be that one left to fade, while the memory will take everything that matters away from him.

He'd be nothing but a shell for the nameless monster to find a shelter in.

"I felt like… I never really knew him."

"Oh, but you did know him, for months."

"No, I didn't. Not really. I knew one version of him, while there was another version hiding. I think the side he was hiding was his true self, and not the other way around." Maybe by dying, Morrison willed the monster and let it out to find a new empty space to fill in somebody else's chest. Maybe that's where it came from. Maybe by being killed, Will would be able to set his own monster free to go and terrorize somebody else's nights.

"Was he _only_ a serial killer, once you discovered his deeds? Had nothing of him as a person stayed in your heart?"

"It came back, in pieces, after a while. But right at the moment I realized who he truly was? I didn't think about him as… As the one I used to eat dinner at his house at least three times a week, he was just this… danger that I had to… pull out of my life as fast and efficiently as possible."

"What drove you to take his gun and shoot him at his house? Why not simply calling that police, or just… hiding it? Like nothing happened."

"I didn't even think about the police back then. I just… wanted to end him. And once I confronted him, didn't really have the luxury of time to _think_ , or do anything but survive."

"Was it vengeance?"

"Some of it, of course. But not only."

"You felt betrayed."

Will abandoned his coffee, looked out the floor to ceiling window by their table. The clouds were getting darker, the mist in the air held a promise of storm. "Yes."

"Which version of him did you feel betrayed by, when you peeled back his layers?"

An old scar stretched uncomfortably over his heart and reminded him he hadn't used this part of his soul in quite a some time, it was beginning to get sore and tired of so much poking, after so long of resting still. Will looked around, and all at once at spell broke. The dome Hannibal created around them both shattered. The noise from the outside world crashed down on Will, left him overwhelmed.

It was cold, and lonely, sitting there after he exposed so much, with nothing to cover his insides from the people passing by. The vulnerability of it made him tremble. He was exhausted in a second.

He was terrified, never before experiencing what it felt like to not be able to control his own reactions.

"Ah." Suddenly, Hannibal was closer. He was leaning forward until he could not lean any farther. His eyes were watching Will's face with a strange soberness. "It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

Will nodded.

"Let's take you home."

Will wasn't sure how to feel about Hannibal deciding for him, but for once, he let himself fall into the simplicity of just going along with the suggestion. He wasn't sure he was capable of anything else at the moment.

"What's happening?" Will's breath caught a little, his heart beating faster than normal, but leaving him feeling numb all the same.

"Just too many raw emotions being exposed without a careful surrounding to support it, I apologize for that."

"Is it normal?"

"Yes." Will was startled when he felt something heavy and warm put over his shoulders. It was Hannibal's coat.

Will would have complained, if he wasn't so fucking grateful. He chose to not say anything, and just covered himself a little more, feeling a bit more grounded by the warmth, and the weight.

The walk to the entrance of the building felt shorter than it did ten minutes ago, and the suddenness of going outside made Will unconsciously walk closer to Hannibal. He was still covered by his coat, and was grateful, for once, to being surrounded by so many unstable omegas, no one even gave them a second glance.

Not that anyone would have looked at them twice anyway, Will was an omega; he would have drawn more attention by walking _alone_.

"It's no far to my car." Hannibal promised. Will didn't really care about that, he just made sure to walk close enough to still feel that weird presence Hannibal possessed. A strange magnetic field Will found himself drawn to for grounding.

Someone approached them, Will didn't know who it is, but it made Hannibal pause. Will took a step back, hiding.

"Dr. Lecter, I really need your urgent consult on something, do you have a moment?"

"Not now." Hannibal waved him off and went on walking, he glanced back once, to make sure Will was still following. For some reason, the act raised the urge for Will to look back himself.

When he did, the man was still standing there, following them with his gaze.

"Who is that?"

"A patient."

"He said it was urgent."

"He can deal with it just fine by himself, he's done it before. No need to fuss over every difficulty." Was Hannibal's simple answer.

"Am I a difficulty, too?"

Hannibal turned around, not just with his head, but actually stopped (Will almost stumbled right into his chest) and turned around to face Will. He looked at Will's face a silent moment that seemed to stretch on and on.

"Be assured." Hannibal finally said, a different kind of light shining through his amused eyes, "You are far more entertaining and interesting to have a conversation with, rather than a trouble I have to deal with."

Will stared at him, trying to understand if there was a pun he was missing, and simply couldn't find any. It didn't make him less suspicious. "Okay." He agreed, fixing that coat more comfortably around his shoulders.

Head tilted a little bit to the side, Hannibal smiled down at him, before turning to continue their march towards the promised deliberation straight into Hannibal's car, and from there, to the safety of Will's apartment.

*

*

Will forgot the blinds closed in the morning, and when Hannibal followed him into his apartment, he hurried over to open them.

Hannibal didn't make a peep about the state of the apartment, but Will caught him from the corner of his eye brushing a finger over the chest of drawers, and checking it for dust. Will felt smug because he knew there was no dust to be found, and then felt less smug when he reminded himself it was Margot who cleaned it last, and not him.

"Do you want some coffee?"

"That would be delightful." Hannibal didn't say anything about Will drinking a cup of coffee not even thirty minutes earlier. Will appreciated that.

Will walked into the kitchen. Hannibal didn't follow him in, but preferred to linger at the entrance to the small room, watching Will as he pulled out his old stained kettle and fired the stove with the help of a match.

"Doesn't your landlord fix problems with the stove, and such?"

"I don't have a landlord, _I_ am the landlord."

"You bought this place?"

"Yup."

"Is it your family's money?"

"No, it's Morrison's. His son didn't want the money and gave it to me. When I was told I could leave the Institution's apartments I brought this place up."

"Ah, a smart use of that money."

Will didn't answer, didn't find a reason too. He agreed, of course, but it was so obvious that he didn't bother to voice it out loud.

They fell into a silence, one of which Will was beginning to get accustomed to. He was sure Hannibal had wheels in his head that were turning all the time, even when he was silent. Will wasn't like that, he could stare into space and day-dream for hours upon hours. As a kid he used to drive his father crazy with it, forgetting and neglecting his chores, not doing his homework, not listening, head wandering in the middle of the sentence…

Will watched the kettle, his mind currently traveling into a soft, comfortable place of blankness.

"How long have you been living here?"

It took time for Will to come back into the room. "Two years, now."

"That's very impressive."

"Yeah, need to get a job soon, though. The money can only last so long. My education is high-school level. I'm not sure I can do much but the part-time jobs the Institution offers."

"You can work in the FBI."

Will huffed a bitter laugh, his chest rising and falling with it. "I doubt the FBI take in stray omegas and train them how to jump through fire hoops."

"You see yourself as a stray omega, Will?"

"Well." The kettle was close to boiling, Will began to take out two cups and coffee. "I'm an omega, and many will argue about my current stability in life."

"You have an apartment of your own, that's more than many can say about themselves."

"It wasn't my own money that bought me this place."

"Every money in the world used to belong to someone else in the past. Most of us need money in order to make money, very few begin from nothing and get somewhere."

It was true. Again, Will found himself with nothing to say.

"What type of coffee is it?"

Will turned the aluminum box in Hannibal's direction, since the man was still refusing to enter the room, Will held it up in the air so Hannibal could see.

"Is it instant?"

"Neh." Will shrugged. "It's home-made by the café at the corner of this street."

"Is it good?"

"It's perfect for me. All fancy-like. They even gave me a strainer for free." Will waved it like a flag, before putting it in position. The kettle was making its whistle.

"Very well." Hannibal said. Before Will had the chance to question the odd answer, Hannibal made his way over to the only chair in the room and sat on it.

There was no coffee table, so after Will finished pouring the water, he handed one cup to Hannibal, and held one in his hand, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He didn't wait for Hannibal to try it first, sipping right in. He liked his coffee straight out boiling, one of the reasons he couldn't stand mixing it with milk or cream.

"It is very good." Hannibal sounded, if not surprised, at least glad.

Will smiled at him. "Saved you the effort of pretending to enjoy it while you torture yourself with drinking something that makes you gag."

Hannibal actually chuckled, and Will glanced up at him with wide eyes, not expecting him to. "I'm very picky when it comes to things I put in my mouth, that's why I rarely ever eat out of my house, and it is always the food I prepared myself."

"Then I hope for you that your cooking is above average, otherwise you're just a snob."

"Hmm." Hannibal hummed under his breathe, watching Will with a strange glint in his eyes. "Consider yourself formally invited to dine with me. I shall update you with the exact date and time of it."

"Sounds like a great honor."

"Oh yes indeed, you won't find just anyone in my dining room, just those that I feel I can tolerate a whole hour in their immediate presence."

Will rolled his eyes to the ceiling, gazed at the soft stains of age marking the paint in some spots. "You have a dining room."

He could hear Hannibal shifting in his seat, but Hannibal didn't answer with words, and Will found himself wondering out loud. "Do you ever just snack something quick in front of the fridge, or is that kind of gesture just below you?"

"Ah." Was all Hannibal said, and Will let his head drop back to its natural position, and looked at Hannibal with the type of curiosity that was tickling his belly, just something that was suddenly there, waiting to be satisfied. "I don't find myself snacking. But I wouldn't mind it if I ever find you in front of my fridge in the middle of the night, stealing something, Will."

It was a promise, and Will wasn't sure he could fully interpret it to its deeper meanings. Even as small butterflies filled his stomach, he felt himself grow confused with the unfamiliarity of these type of hints. This puzzle was beyond him at this point, he feared.

"I've heard Jack caught your romantic killer." The awkward silence smoothed over Hannibal's feathers like it was no effort at all. He simply resumed the conversation as if Will hadn't stared him down in the last three minutes. "Maybe he will summon you for the interrogations. Would you mind me to accompany you there? Who knows, maybe an opportunity will fall into your hands, with the right words spoken at the right time, on your behalf."

Will sighed and rubbed at his face. Coffee was very much needed, and he sipped on it gratefully. Not boiling hot anymore, but not far from it either. "I don't really know, can't… make myself think right now. I apologize."

"None of that." Hannibal sipped on his own cup, looking at Will up and down – and up again. "It's been a long day." He said it again, as if saying it enough times will convince Will there was no fault in being tired.  

*

"I like your apartment." Hannibal said.

Will was looking around, trying to understand what was there to like. "It's a home." He concluded. It was practical in every detail, designed to be comfortable for him, but nothing more than that. It wasn't _beautiful_. It was just _his_.

"Yes, exactly. It _is_ a home. Very homey. It's warm, and dark, and very much like _you_. Just like the coffee you make."

A smile found its way to Will's face, he couldn't help it. His apartment was like a cup of hot coffee, he'd never heard that analogy before. He liked it. He might even adopt it.

*

*

*

"Will." Alana found him on the Institution grounds. "It's been a while."

Will nodded at her. "Were you ever going to tell me, that you'll drop me as your patient?"

"I hadn't dropped you, I requested a substitute."

"That's another way of putting it."

Alana sighed and looked away from him, her eyebrows frowning. "There was very little left for me to do in order to help your progress."

Will got up from the log of tree he was sitting on, it made them stand closer, but it didn't bother him. She didn't step back, and Will was sure it was intentional, to show no guilt. "My progress with what?"

"With dealing with what happened to you and move on."

"I moved on."

Alana looked at him then, watched him. "I don't think that's entirely true."

"Really, and what makes you assume that you're right?"

"You’re problem with accepting authority, for one."

Will felt his own face go slack with shock. "What." He laughed, it was coming in huffs of air that left him a little light-headed. He looked around, feeling that the situation was so silly, there must be an audience somewhere, watching and laughing just like he was.  

Whoever was around didn't pay them any mind.

"You… what." He couldn't even find the words to describe the scrambled fuck inside his head at that moment. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You are not the first omega in the history of the world to have a problem with authority, and you are not the only omega to suffer from PTSD, but I fear that both of those, together with your deep understanding of the nature of those surrounding you, your high intelligence, they all put you at risk of forgetting to do what's good for you, stop fighting, from a time to time."

Will didn't know what to say, he could only stare at her with his eyes wide open and his lips pressed together.

"You need someone that will let you vent out all the fight inside of you safely, and I fear I am not the one who will be best for that."

"So you request a substitute."

"Yes."

"Is it because I'm an omega, that it's bad that I have a fight in me?"

The look Alana sent him was almost pitying, but Will refused to acknowledge that. "It's bad for everyone, when it's interrupting with the things that make them happy."

"I won't be happy anyway."

"Do you really think that?"

"Yes."

"You need to see a therapist."

They looked at each other, eyes locked - for a moment - before they both busted into loud laughter that finally drew the attention of the few passerby wanderers.

All the tension between them vanished at once.

"Oh, fuck me." Will wiped a tear from the corner of his eyes.

"Stop cursing all the time!" Alana slapped his shoulder, scolding. It was almost playful.

Will huffed with a wide grin. " _Why_?"

"Because. That's ludicrously rude!"

They looked at each other, a silence that held so much in it.

"Oh, fuck that." Will was beginning to laugh even as he said it. And Alana joined him wholeheartedly even she pulled on a strand of his curls with a punishing grip, making him squirm out of her hold with a pained groan.

*

*

It was a few days later when Hannibal was waiting for Will outside his group therapy's room.

Will stopped and blinked at him. When Hannibal noticed Will in return - he approached.

"Hi." Will managed to say.

"Hello, Will." Hannibal tilted his head and smiled, it was friendly, and familiar. Will noticed the moment Hannibal's eyes shifted, sensed the change. Hannibal noticed something behind Will's shoulder, which urged him to turn himself.

It was only Mark, watching the two of them with something strange masking his expression. Will had learned that Mark was very fond of those vague gestures, and tried as hard as he could to simply ignore them. Mark, when he wasn't so odd, was immensely nice and helpful, not just to Will, but to everyone in the group. Will had grown to like him.

"Would you mind accompanying me outside?" Came Hannibal's voice, drawing Will's attention back to him.

"Yeah, sure." Will glanced at his watch as they started marching together.

"You are very fond of checking the time." Hannibal observed. Will thought he might hear fondness in his tone of voice, but shrugged it off.

"Yes." Will was aware of his small habit, but never tried to stop himself from doing it almost every ten minutes. "Sometimes I just like to see how the seconds tick."

"Then let's hope you don't lose it."

Will was surprised when he felt Hannibal's hand on the small of his back, he hurried his steps, losing the contact on purpose. He could feel the gaze of others staring after them, since everyone were heading in more or less the same direction, but he didn't turn to look behind his shoulder.

For some reason, he felt that he was better off not seeing the expression Mark had on his face right then.

*

"Jack Crawford called me this morning, asked if it would be okay to if you arrived at the interrogation of a suspect he caught."

"Just like you said he would."

"Indeed."

"Why did he call you?"

"He called Alana, and Alana referred him to me."

"Why didn't he just call _me_?"

"I can only guess that he didn't have your number, and didn't want to step out of boundaries he is not familiar with."

Will rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I forget how other people might see me. A patient in the IPAO."

"How do you think they see you?"

"…Like a tiny graceless bunny."

"Ha." Hannibal rubbed at his mouth, hiding the laugh that almost escaped.

Will glared at him. "Don't imagine it."

"Too late." Hannibal pulled out the car keys.

"Wait." Will halted. He didn't even notice they arrived at the parking lot so fast. "Right now?"

Hannibal looked around, before staring back at Will while unlocking the car. "Have a busy schedule, Will?"

"You know it's not that-"

"Then I don't see why not."

"That's—I--" Hannibal wasn't listening, he was already entering the car and starting the engine.

Will felt his shoulders lift and his jaw set.

"I don't!" Will almost waved his hands before deciding it was too childish to actually do something like that. His mouth moved around words that escaped from his immediate consciousness before he had a chance to catch them and voice them.

Eventually, he entered the car. Hannibal didn't say anything, but he was smirking all the goddamn drive, making Will want to… do something that would wipe it off.  


	6. Something Smells Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedback <3 I seriously appreciate it, it means so much to me - to know that there is someone out there who enjoys my writing :)

Chapter 6

Will didn't exactly know what he expected to see, when he sees the main suspect of the investigation about the romantic murders.  Whatever it was, it wasn't that.

A guy barely over his teens. An alpha. There was such sadness in his eyes Will felt himself sinking in. He didn't look confused about the reason for him being there in the interrogation room. The guy glanced at the see through mirror before averting his eyes again. Will's heart was squeezing in his chest. It wasn't what he thought it would feel like – to face the killer.

"Cody Bears." Jack Crawford's voice came from the other side of the glass. Will watched him as he dropped the file on the table, not taking a sit himself.

Cody didn't look up at him, not even when Jack circled around him like a predator looking for a weakness.

"Why do you think we brought you here today, Cody?"

Cody glanced at the mirror again, before looking down at his own hands, resting on the surface of the table. "Because of all the killings, you think I killed them."

"No, I don't. You are here for _questioning_. To _question_ \- whether you _did_ kill those people, or somebody else did."

Cody shrugged, and Jack – finally – took a sit on the chair opposite from him. He opened the file, and took out the last taken photographs of the victims while they were still alive. He spread them on the table, facing Cody.

"How many people here have you known, either personally, or for business?"

Will saw the way Cody swallowed, he could feel himself almost coughing, something not going down right in his own throat. "It's him, isn't it?" Will asked, whispering as quietly as he could. Jack explained to him that no one on the other side of the glass would be able to hear him unless he shouts, but Will felt it necessary to stay quiet instinctively.

"It probably is." Hannibal said from beside him, his voice echoing in the room and making his words sound closer to gibberish. Or maybe it was just the blood streaming through Will's brain that was disturbing his hearing.

"Cody," Jack leaned back. "I'm going to make it easy for you. I'll ask you one yes or no question, and you are going to answer me. Not with a nod of your hear and not in a murmur, okay?"

"Yes." Sweat was gathering at Cody's temples. 

"Have you killed those people?"

"Yes."

"Thank you." Jack said, and will was surprised to hear the softness in his voice. "For your honesty. Your cooperation will be taken into consideration in the case against you."

Cody shrugged his shoulders, it didn't make him look relaxed or eased.

Will couldn't take his eyes off of him.

*

*

"It was so strange."

Hannibal was sitting in the comfortable chair in front of Jack Crawford's desk, in his private office. "What was?"

"I expected a psychopath."

"But?"

"But I saw something else entirely."

"What did you see?"

"Kindness… gentleness… even." Will stopped his pacing, head tilted down to watch the carpet beneath his feet. "A capability of feeling connection with others."

"Why is that so strange?"

"I didn't see any guilt." The pacing went on. Will couldn't sit down, wouldn't even consider it. His mind was racing, and his heart was beating to the rhythm of uncertainty.

Hannibal didn't say anything after that, and Will could feel the way he watched him in his agitated state of mind.

Jack was absent, dealing with some paperwork. There was a lot to do now that the killer was found and confirmed. Will was curious about what exactly the process was, but he wasn't curious enough to ask about it, not with the look of terrifying triumphant ecstasy in Jack's eyes earlier when he came out of the interrogation room.

"Do you find it troubling?"

Restless pacing coming to a pause. "What?"

"That Cody didn't feel any guilt over his deeds, even though he was so obviously capable of sympathy, and remorse, and even nervousness?"

"It made me question whatever I thought I knew of human nature."

"You can study, if you'd like."

Will scoffed. "To what end?"

"You just helped to catch someone dangerous."

"The FBI caught him."

"With your help. They went in a totally wrong direction before listening to you, it costed an innocent man his life."

"It was only before of the innocent man that I was able to see the real killer behind those killings."

"Did you feel yourself enter Allen Morse's head, before realizing he was not the killer, or was it just an instinct?"

"He said he wasn't the killer."

"Is it as simple as that?"

"I don't know!" Will didn't mean to raise his voice, but Hannibal's poking and prodding was frustrating. "Is it not enough if I say that I just believed him?" his voice returned to normal, turning soft around the edges. Desperation to be understood without having to explain himself. 

Hannibal looked away for a moment. "Why do you think Allen Morse came after you?"

A question Will was asking himself every spare moment, every night before falling asleep, every time he couldn't stop his mind from wandering. "I don’t know. But I'm willing to find out."

"How will you do that?"

"I'll… search."

"It will take time, and effort."

"I'm willing to sacrifice."

Hannibal nodded his head, not in approval- but in acknowledgement.

It was then that Jack opened the door to the office, entering with an air of a man who had something urgent to do. "So, Will, how are you?"

"Fine, thanks." Will looked to the corner of the desk, where a tiny scratch ruined the perfect gloss polish of the dark wooden surface.

"I'm glad to hear that." When neither Will nor Hannibal said anything in return, Jack hurried to say: "I asked you to come here today, because I wanted to offer you a part time job."

Will looked up briefly to Jack's face, feeling a flutter of anticipation in his gut.

"A counsellor, for special investigations, nothing much, maybe… a week every once in a while, just to get the investigation going, hopefully in the right direction. I got all the approval stamps I needed in order to do that, so you don't need to worry about your position with the IPAO."

"Thank you." Will meant it.

"Thank _you_ for willing to help us. Believe me when I say that it's not every day I see a man who grasp details and analyze them as fast as you can."

Will shrugged. "It was only once."

Jack looked at him for a few seconds. "Well, then, you'll have the chance to either prove me right or wrong about you. You can expect our call the next time we'll need your help. In the meanwhile, I was asked to give this envelope-" he simply lifted it up from a pile of papers Will didn't pay any mind to before- "which hold information about insurance, salary, pension, and all those details I really don't know enough myself in order to be of any help with any of it. If you run into any trouble please contact the phone numbers inside."

Nodding his head, Will accepted the envelope.

After exchanging phone numbers and saying their goodbyes, Will couldn't say he wasn't glad to finally be out of the building. He couldn't explain it, but something in the very air in the halls and corridors felt like it was filled with never ending tension. It was as if underground there was a bomb ticking - it could explode at any given moment, and everyone were waiting for it just kill them all.

*

*

Margot was waiting by his apartment.

"Hi." Will breathed it out, surprised.

"Hello there." She smiled, her eyes deepening with emotion. When she saw Hannibal, however, her smile froze. "Dr. Lecter."

"Ms. Verger."

Margot glanced from Will to Hannibal, while Will did the exact same thing. "Did you want to talk to me about something private?" Will tried to help, hoping to relive both Margot and himself from needing to excuse themselves into Will's apartment and leave Hannibal hanging by the door.

"Yes! Actually." Margot tilted her head in thanks, her eyes smiling at him while the rest of her face stays passive.

"Well then," Will held back laughter when Hannibal lifted both eyebrows – at the both of them. "I will see you later, Will, Margot."

"Was nice meeting you." Margot murmured after him.

"So?" Will took out his keys. The lock rattled and strayed a little to the right, Will cursed. He fixed the lock a few days ago because it was getting stuck in the doorpost almost every morning since the weather got colder.

But seems like he didn't fix it well enough. Loose screws.

"Let's get inside first."

Will looked at Margot, trying to understand why she sounded so serious. But he did respect her wish, and when they walked inside he let her make her round of dusting while he prepared her favorite tea.

It was about ten minutes later when they finally sat down, Margot on the chair and Will on the bed. "So?" Will said again.

"I'm being moved." Margot wouldn't look at him, a trait that was usually left for Will's side of the conversation.

"Moved… in your job?"

"My brother," Margot began, couldn't finish, sipped on her tea, looked out the window to the sky outside. "Thinks I've been away from home enough. Two years is a long time of not seeing each other, apparently."

"I never had brothers and sisters, as you know. Did he explain what happened that he suddenly asked you to come back?"

Shaking her head, Margot looked down to her own cup of tea. "No."

"And you have to go back, just because he asked?"

"He's… family. The only I have left."

Will shrugged, and Margot finally looked at him, sadness in her eyes. "You know that means nothing to me as well. Haven't seen my father in… _years_. We don't speak to each other, he and I."

"Yes, but." Margot waved a hand at the apartment around them. "You have something. Without my family, I… don't."

"Then create something, of your own."

"What do you mean?"

"Create a family, of your own."

Margot laughed, it sounded bitter and without any hope. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not."

"What, you want to be a father?"

"I…" Will blinked. "I didn't even think about it like that, it wasn't what I meant at all."

"Then what." A focused stare met his eyes. "Do you think I should do?"

Will sighed, rubbed at the sheets beneath him. He looked at the wall in front of him. "It sounds like you and he don't get along so well."

A huff of breathe, and a familiar body heat took the space beside him, the mattress lowered a few inches closer to the floor. "I'm leaving in a few days, already talked to Alana."

"What did she say?"

"That she'll always welcome me back in the future, and will make an effort to find a new secretary as fast as possible in order to let me go back… home."

"Sounds like she tried to be kind."

Margot looked down to his shoulder like she wanted to rest her head on it, but she didn't, she just looked up at him, bringing their faces close. "You won't try to be kind, will you?"

"I'm never trying to be kind."

Margot smiled, a smile that turned into a single laugh. It was sincere, for a change. "You say that, but you are one of the kindest people I know."

For some reason, this comment left Will feeling sad, a ball of emotions sat heavy in his gut.

"I want to lie here tonight, with you, until I fall asleep."

Will nodded his head so fast it was more of a jerk. "Okay."

*

*

*

Margot was leaving in a few days, and Will didn't know what to feel, how to react.

The next morning they woke up next to each other and left together. Will had another group therapy meeting, and Margot still had her job at Alana's.

Margot was leaving.

Will was chewing on his nails in the meeting, not even bothering to pretend to be listening. His head was somewhere else entirely, trying to figure out how to pass these few days until Margot would leave and then she'll be gone.

After the meeting ended, Will was not surprised when Mark asked for him to stay with him when everyone else left.

"What's wrong today?"

"Something personal." Will looked away, towards the entrance, he wished to leave already. Go talk to Alana, go ask Margot if she wanted to go out tonight.

"Is it something bad? Something I can help with?" Came Mark's voice as if from a great distance, even though he was standing right there next to him in the empty room.

The shrug came naturally, and Will didn't think about it as dismissing until he caught the look on Mark's face and then realized what he's done. "Don’t worry." He hurried to add, trying re-build the bridge between them. He almost broke it because of his insensitivity. "I just... need to figure out a few stuff on my own. Maybe we can talk about it later."

Mark's face changed in a moment from sad and thoughtful to something much merrier. "You want to maybe meet later today?"

"Er." Will didn't know what to say, felt awkward. "I don't think today will be good. But maybe after the next group meeting?"

That was next week, enough time for Will to have his own space for himself. It was tasking enough to try and be sociable while he was in a good mood, he didn’t to add more stress to his life right now.

Just before Will exited the room, Mark's voice carried: "Are you going to see Dr. Lecter?"

Will turned around, and what he saw was confusing, worrying, and above all- raising his defenses. He turned around fully in order to face Mark again. He couldn't understand what the source of the anger he could see was, but he sensed that it was something that went deep enough to not be so obvious. Mark was staring at him, and the intensity of it made Will stare back, feeling trapped.

"Mark." He said, not sure how to continue the sentence. "Do you have something you wish to discuss with me?"

"I thought you were busy."

"Not enough in order to leave you right now, if you have something very important to say to me."

Scoffing, Mark didn't drop his eyes or look away. "He's interested in you. Dr. Lecter, I mean."

Will frowned, was it… jealousy? "I haven't noticed."

"No, of course you wouldn't you only see far, far ahead, never close, never when it's right under your nose."

"I-" Stammering, thoughts were running wild in Will's head. "Are you angry, that I haven't noticed you were trying to get my attention?"

"Oh, no. Never angry." Mark laughed, once- before finally averting his gaze. "Don’t worry, Will Graham, just go on. Go see your friends."

Will took the opportunity to leave, walking fast and not looking back. The hairs over the nape of his neck were still standing long after he entered the elevator.

Seeing Margot behind the desk was refreshing and nostalgic and made him feel warm inside all at the same time. "Hello." He smiled, at least, the best he could manage at the moment.

"You look winded up." Margot stated, clicking around in her computer, probably in the middle of something.

"The guide for my group therapy is a creep."

Margot looked at him, wide eyes and pursed lips. "Markus McClain?"

"Him."

"He's an IPAA patient. What did you expect?"

"He looked like he wanted to rip me apart."

Margot made a face at that. "Maybe an unstable alpha shouldn't be allowed to take responsibility over omegas like that? You can bring it up with Alana, she's finishing up in about ten minutes."

"Yeah, I think I'll do that."

*

Alana did finish ten minutes later. Will didn’t glance up when he heard the door open. He knew that the one who came out was a patient of hers, and he didn't want to know who that is, in case he'd stumble upon them around the building in the future.

"Will?" Alana sounded worried. It was so familiar it made Will relax at once.

"I think I need your advice on some things in my life right now."

Alana tilted her head. "Of course, come on inside."

Margot mouthed a _good luck_ in his direction as he passed the doorway, and he waved at her with a smile.

"How are you?" Alana tactfully shut the door behind them, giving them the privacy Will knew she didn't owe him anymore. He didn't even know if she had other appointments or better places to be right now. If she did, it didn't show on her face.

Her blue eyes watched him, trying to catch every twitch of muscle. Trying to read him.

"I'm not sure." He didn't sit down, not only because Alana remained standing as well, but because lately he could hardly find it in him to stand still. He began a slow pace around the room, looking at the familiar books on the shelves.

He remembered all of their titles by heart.

"I've began thinking." He paused, looked at her. "About the future."

"That's good." She smiled encouragingly.

"It's blurry, and uncertain, but it's there."

"Where there was nothing, before."

"Yes. I don't know if I find it comforting, or scary?"

"The future scares you?"

"The expectations I have about myself scare me the most. I'm scared of… failing."

"You do realize there is no such thing as failing."

"You and I both know that it is not true."

Alana shifted where she stood, leaning on one leg more than the other. "I do believe it."

"Life has failures in it, it holds failures."

"Yes. But failures are events, _failing_ is something you choose to describe your general life with. Which, not matter the case, is not true."

"Can you imagine me? And older me? Ten years from now, let's say."

"It was hard to imagine you in _five_ years from now, you want me to imagine _ten?_ " She didn't say it in a hurtful way, and her eyes were regarding him calmly… but something in the words – something Will couldn't explain – stung.

"It _was_ hard? When?"

Shrugging, Alana looked around the room, her eyes catching the blue light from the windows and turning even brighter. "A month ago? Seriously Will, I was very close to recommending you move back into institution's apartments."

That caught Will off guard, he wasn't expecting it, never knew that it was an option in Alana's mind. "Why?"

"It looked like you were struggling to find a reason to live." Alana's voice raised, full of held back emotions she was struggling to express without exploding. She had those moments sometimes, when she was just _feeling_ so much she was going to burst into bubbles. "I didn't know what else there was to do except keep a closer eye on you. Honestly Will, it felt to me like you were giving up on yourself."

Will didn't know what to say.

It was true.

A month ago, he did find it hard to get out of bed, to brush his teeth and put on a sweater like everything was perfectly normal. He walked down the streets of the city and traveled the metro as if he didn't feel the walls of his own mind crushing down on his soul.

Getting out of the apartment became struggle, staying alone became an even larger struggle. Nothing was coming easy, nothing felt natural.

"It's not that way anymore."

"Yes, I've noticed."

"You were afraid I'd kill myself."

It took a few seconds for Alana to answer. "Yes."

"Especially after the attack at the mall."

"…Yes."

"And you thought it would be a good idea to abandon me then?"

"It was, a good idea. Look at you, you're doing better than you did in _years_."

Will felt his breathe coming short. "It's not because I stopped seeing you."

"Maybe it is." Alana was staring at him, gaze sharp. "Maybe what you really need is not therapy, but rather a safe environment in which you can let loose."

"Dr. Lecter spoke to you?"

"Yes. And I think it will be good for you, to do something. I'm not sure I like the idea of you going around doing… dangerous things. But Jack Crawford promised to keep you in as much distance of anything dangerous, and I choose to try and trust him in this."

"So, you don't think it's a bad idea?"

She shook her head. "I wouldn't have recommended it, if it wasn't for the huge progress you've made since you and Hannibal started meeting. I think Hannibal is good for you. And because of that, I trust his judgment in this."

"…Thank you." Will said, meaning it. "I wasn't sure, until this conversation."

Alana nodded her head, her eyes full of understanding. "I guess it wasn't easy, to suddenly feel noticed, after so many years of being almost completely transparent."

Will couldn't agree more. Too much attention was given to him lately.

That brought up the subject of Mark.

"My group therapy guide has been sending me weird clues lately. I feel like he has some… grudge against me but I don’t know what it is." Will could very well _guess_ what it is, but he would not admit it, not to Alana. He wasn't even sure if it was a good idea to bring it up with her, maybe talking to Hannibal would have been a better choice?

Will talked to her, told her about Mark's weird behavior. Alana accepted it with a frown of concern, but didn't say anything until Will was finished.

"I'll speak to his psychiatrist at the IPAA."

"It's Dr. Lecter."

"Is that so?" Her eyebrows shot high on her forehead. "I'll speak to Hannibal, then."

"Thank you."

"It’s no problem at all, I'm glad you came to talk to me about it."

*

*

Will could feel someone watching him on the train back home. His first reaction was paranoia, but his instincts told him to keep a calm façade. He casually looked around, before accidently spotting a familiar pair of eyes.

It was this guy, the one who tried to talk to him a few weeks ago.

It felt like it has been years since it happened.

Will wasn't sure whether to approach, or say something. This guy was sitting near the farthest door away from Will. Probably intentionally. Will acted as if he didn't notice, let his eyes pass him by like he wasn't even really looking, just gazing into space aimlessly.

The feeling followed him for a while, until it didn't.

The next time Will looked, the guy was gone.

Guilt stabbed at him. He was bad at making new connections with people, and this specific relationship began on a bad side.

*

*

*

"I've heard Mark has been giving you trouble lately?"

It was Hannibal, stepping into his apartment in the early morning a few days after Wil's conversation with Alana.

"Good morning." Will murmured, not yet fully awake. He yawned, something big enough to make his jaw ache.

Hannibal stopped and looked at him, his eyes were smiling. "Good morning, Will."

"Feel at home." Will gestured towards the general direction of the kitchen, while he himself had an urgent schedule to keep with the toilet, and so he excused himself without words, simply entering the bathroom and closing the door.

He heard the sound of clattering and things being moved around in the next room even as he brushed his teeth. It didn't worry him. Will was many things, but it generally didn't bother him to let people inside his home. It was just that he knew so few, really, that he could count the number of people who entered this apartment since he moved in - using about three fingers.

When he opened the door the first thing that hit him was the smell.

Will cursed out loud, peeking around the corner to watch Hannibal lording over the small room like it was an everyday occurrence for him – to cook in a tiny hall in the wall with low-class devices and a gas that barely worked properly anymore.

The food was not Will's. "Have you brought something from your house?"

Hannibal glanced at him once, before going back to chopping whatever it was on the wooden board. "I thought that since I chose to invade your space so early in your day, at least I'd get to provide you with a good start."

"That's thoughtful."

"I'm glad you appreciate the gesture." It was amused.

Will rolled his eyes, didn't bother to stop Hannibal. Clearly the man had it in his head to take care of things in his own ways. It was an alpha thing. Usually Will would find it infuriating, but the food smelled divine, and his stomach was beginning to protest no having anything in it for too long.

"Then I'll guess I'll just sit in the main room and not disturb your job."

Hannibal smiled, even while he wasn't looking in his direction. "You're still standing here, though."

"Okay, I get it." Will shrugged and left Hannibal alone.

The bed looked inviting enough, anyway. Maybe he'd steal a few more minutes of rest.  


	7. Wandering

Will woke up to a hand resting on his shoulder. He stirred up immediately, blinking in confusion. There were a few seconds in which he wasn't sure where he was or what was happening.

But recognition quickly sank in, as the furniture around the room became more and more familiar.

The face above him was also familiar. Dr. Lecter was looking down with a frown on his face. "You were dreaming, and not responding to my voice calling your name."

Will gulped, he hardly felt embarrassment as he was so goddamned startled – his heart was still beating like a hammer – but the more he calmed down the more he wanted to hide under the sheets. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Hannibal nodded, before looked behind his shoulder. "Breakfast is ready." He said, looking back to Will. Will noticed that his face wasn't wearing a worried frown anymore, as if he concealed because he thought it would be more sensitive.

"Thanks." Will still felt a little bit like he was floating. He got up to a sitting position. He didn't remember anything of his dream, and he hoped it wasn't a nightmare or anything that caused him to talk while sleeping.

"It's a simple breakfast, but rich." Hannibal went into the kitchen, and came back holding two bowls filled with something that smelled wonderfully of just enough meat and just enough cheese and just enough eggs.

Will couldn't help but notice the way Hannibal was watching him when he snatched the bowl from Hannibal's hand and just dived in like a starved man. By the time Hannibal was sitting, much less beginning to eat, Will was already feeling the need to slow down because the food wasn't going down his esophagus properly from eating too fast.

"Smells wonderful." Will said around another mouthful, he words barely coming out intelligible. He swallowed, making a gulping noise. "I mean, tastes wonderful, that's-"

"I'm glad you like it." Hannibal was hardly eating anything, just sitting there and following him with his eyes. "Though I could hardly accept the compliment, since it is just a plain omelet with some bacon and cheese."

"Yes." Will took another fork with as much as he could gather. "Very good. You can come whenever you want, as long as you bring this kind of food with you."

"I'll be keeping that in mind."

*

*

Will didn't have anything to do that day, he didn't have any group meeting, and he didn't have any other obligations.

He went for a walk.

The sky were gray, rain was falling with small breaks in between.

Will didn't like umbrellas, but he made the effort of blending in. Not that it helped much, at least one man out of ten that passed him by – gave him a second glance.

The rain and dampness _did_ help with the scent, but kin noses – especially alphas – could track him from a few meter away even in this kind of weather. Will ignored them, they were mostly harmless, just surprised and unprepared.

Omegas were rare, more so in the US. Less than 5% worldwide. Something about overpopulation and air pollution reduced their numbers, or so scientists declared.

None of those factors really changed the prevalence of alphas, which remained a steady 15%.

Someone stepped right in front of him, causing Will to halt and look up to the man's chin. He was unfamiliar. 

"Have we met?" The man asked him, sniffing the air. "I don't recognize this scent. But I could swear I've seen this face before."

"Must be someone similar, then." Will replied, not looking away, but not meeting the man's eyes either.

"Swear I've seen you, though."

"I need to get to work on time." Will lowered his voice, lowered his eyes. Tried to look the definition of _not-interested-non-threatening-not-challenging_. He made half a step back, before moving to walk around the stranger.

The hand grabbing his ass and travelling between his legs made him jump, and tense. "Whatever." The man said, and then the hand was gone and the man was walking away.

Will felt his breath coming short. All the cold from around him was slipping into his flesh as if he were naked – instead of wearing three layers.

He caught an older woman looking at him, her eyes were sad. She was an alpha, and she saw what happened. She felt sorry for him. Probably someone dear to her was damaged in an assault long ago. Maybe her daughter or her mate.

Mint gums.

Will took two at once, and began walking fast. He wouldn't let that small _tiny_ incident drop a shadow over the rest of his day. He was stronger than that.

They thought them – the omegas- pretty early in their special lessons in school: Don't be offended by touching. It's not meant to harm you. Not every touch is an abusive one. Alphas sometimes simply couldn't hold themselves back, it was an instinct, especially when the omega was alone and of mating age.

Night clubs? Don't go alone, and not a large group of omegas together. Some clubs even forbidden exactly that. Hotels, too, sometimes didn't allow for omegas to register alone in case something happens to them and the family sued. Too many accidents happening.

Some people thought it was due to omegas suddenly being allowed to roam free and unmated by their own choice, some thought there should be more effort put into educating alphas to keep their basic instincts to themselves. The status que was to take every measure of safety, anywhere, anytime.

Will needed a distraction. But Margot was at work and… well… Margot was his only friend. He sincerely held the hope to get friendly with Mark, but that was before the man turned out to have some issues of his own that Will didn't wish to get a bite of. He had his own share of things that brought a bad taste to his mouth.

It was raining again. And Will abandoned his umbrella in the nearest trashcan, taking the long way around the city and back to his apartment.

By the time he reached his front door, he was soaking wet.

But the feel of that hand grabbing him from behind was like a brand on his skin, wouldn't get off unless he'd mark it over with something else.

*

*

Margot was up for getting some drinks. 

And so they went out. Will was glad to meet her finally after waiting for this to happen all day. At first, they only talked about her- what her day was like, any developments with the _leaving_ issue… just thoughts and ideas she had on her mind.

And then Margot asked Will _so, what's up with you?_ And Will didn't know how to answer.

The waiter, an alpha, arrived with their drinks, giving Will one lingering look that hid nothing of his intentions, and then continued to the next table.

_Alphas couldn't help it, it was in their blood, their instincts - it's their most primal urge._

"Someone groped me today, at daylight, in public."

Almost choking on her drink, Margot gave him a wide eyed look that was all shock. " _What?_ " She said, her voice raised. The music was loud enough that nobody found it odd, but Will could very well sense the rage that was gathering in her stomach. "And you waited all this _time_ to tell me something so important?! Let me be rude for a moment – _FUCK!_ Will Graham. Fuck!." That _did_ draw some wandering eyes. Will held his breath. The place was hot enough that he began to sweat the moment they walked in. It was also crowded enough that the only people who will notice his scent will be those that actually rub against him or lean close.

Yet still, he didn't want anyone to notice him. "Margot, c'mon."

"And what did you do? Did you break his hand? Went to the police?'

Will felt bitter, even as he rolled his eyes as if in exasperation. "You know a little touching is not something the police would bother with. They have much more important things to do."

"Are you saying it because you're an omega and that's what they told you in elementary school? Or do you actually believe that?"

"I just don't want to talk about this anymore, if you don't mind."

"You're the one who brought this up!"

"Well, and now let me bring something else up." And then he said nothing.  Sipping on his drink – something Margot ordered for him since he knows shit about anything that is not straight out of a bottle and into a shot glass. It was icy with an edge of sweetness. This bar was known for being classier, not offering sugar with lemon and vodka as a cocktail. It was the go-to place for the both of them when drinking.

That line of thoughts just reminded Will that soon Margot would be _gone_.

"I don't want you to leave." He said. Honest.

"Me neither."

"I want you to just stay."

Margot nodded.

"What do I have to do to make that happen?"

Margot raised an eyebrow. "Kill my brother?"

"You don't mean it."

"No, I honestly don't." Margot lowered her gaze. "I wish I had money of my own."

"Where did your salary go?"

"Into food and renting an apartment. I don't have any savings, nothing to survive on."

"You need to work hard in order to be independent. It's not just something that comes around easily."

"For you it came easily."

"I had to kill someone for that."

Margot watched him intently. "Maybe I can go home and be so intolerable that my brother would send me off again."

Will let out a single bark of laughter. "Do try."

They toasted, both knowing that Margot wasn't going to really do it. She was going to go back home to her brother like a good girl, and do whatever he wanted her to do.

*

Will eyed the way their waiter was putting another round of drinks on the table. _On the house_. Will didn't trust that the man was interested in him because of pure attraction alone – and not because of pheromones. But he also wasn't sure he really cared.

The conversation between Margot and him died, only awakened in small bursts when one of them suddenly said something. But dead, generally speaking, all the same.

"He likes you." Margot observed.

Will agreed with a nod, not looking at her.

"I think you should ask him when he gets off shift."

Will made a face. "I don't think that's a good idea." It's been so long since he slept with a stranger… maybe too long to actually remember how these things go.

"Don't be like that!" Margot touched his arm, trying to make him look at her. He complied. "You need the distraction!"

 _You_ _were supposed to be the distraction._ Will thought, and sipped on the unknown drink. It wasn't sweet, not at all, surprising him. It was strong and held an edge of smoke to it. Very masculine. It was the drink their waiter chose for him, and it made Will search for him with his eyes.

By the next time the man arrived at their table to ask if they needed anything, Will made up his mind. He took a deep breathe, preparing himself for one of the most embarrassing moments of his entire life: "When is your shift over?" He asked aloud, trying to beat the volume of the music.

Deep dark eyes watched him, getting wider by the second. And then a smile. Will looked at his face, suddenly every trace of sleeplessness gone from it. "Thirty minutes, I can ask to leave early." His fingers tapped on the surface of the table, he probably didn't even notice he was doing it.

"Okay." Will studied the stubble on the man's chin and upper neck. Attractive, manly. Some would say sexy in a dark way- especially with the sleeves of detailed tattoos all over his arms and fingers. The only thing of much interest to Will was the man's hands, he wondered if they ran hot enough to brand him with a better memory of this long… long day.

*

*

They stumbled into the man's apartment. Jordi. Will remembered. Will hurried to get his clothes off, and when he felt how Jordi was making the exact same effort - Will surrendered to it, only moving his hands at the right moments, and lifting his chin to make it easier.

He didn't look behind his shoulder as Jordi held onto his hips, landing wet kisses all over his shoulders and throat – and guided him backwards.

The sensitive spot behind his knees collided with something, which made him instinctively tense- right before he very dramatically fell onto the bed, looking up – breathless and surprised.

Jordi looked down at him, his gaze intense. And when he touched him, Will let himself go pliant and accepting. The cracks at the ceiling helped him focus, and not think about anything. He kept his mind blank and let Jordi Mark him in whatever way he desired. Jordi touched him, his body impossibly hot against Will's.

Jordi bit the inside of his thigh, and when Will cried out- Jordi released only in order to bite the other side.

The room filled with Will's gasps of pain, and his eventual pleadings, and Jordi didn't hesitate to take every inch of Will for everything he was worth. Making love to him so hard and ruthlessly that by the time Will came- he did it while lying passively, doing no more than rocking with the motion, his eyes closed and tears and sweat making his skin feel itchy.

*

*

*

It was the rush hour in the subway again. Will almost never took it anymore, preferring to walk. But there was a good storm hitting the city today, and even Will wasn't stupid enough to think he can walk for an hour in this weather and come on the other side without a cold.

There was a tingle in his chest right before he entered the automatic doors, an expectation…

But then he didn't see the guy who tried to introduce himself to him before on this very same train in this very same hour- not even when he searched for him for a few minutes. Will wasn't sure if he was glad or disappointed. Maybe an odd mix of both.

The trip in the train was short, hardly ten minutes, and by the end of it Will was running up the stairs to finally be able to breath fresh air again. There was something in winter that made a crowd of people reek of mold and loneliness. Will hated it. Not the winter, but rather the… people. So many, _too_ many.

*

If one day he would be permitted by the IPAO, he wanted to buy a house in the middle of nowhere. A bigger sanctuary than what he had now with his run-down apartment, something that would keep him safe from the darkness creeping up the buildings of the city.

The neon-signs on the shops and the streetlights began to light up around him. The endless shadows of sundown always made him feel like it was a call for all the creatures to come out of their hiding and howl at the moon- proud of their rage and magnificent in their power over those weaker than them.

One such creature was killing people, seemingly it wasn't as simple as Jack made it sound over the phone. Will was hurrying down the wet sidewalk to get to the murder sight.

When he saw the group of FBI vans and police-lights he knew he made it to the correct location.

The guys at the entrance to the sight blocked his way, looking at him suspiciously. Even when he flashed his temporary tag at them- One man skeptically said that if Will was indeed a special agent, he needed to call his supervisor to come and get him.

Will almost felt offended, that is until Jack came over, and while he guided Will through the sea of investigators and police officers- Jack explained that there a few embarrassing incidents with unrelated people taking pictures and spreading them on  the internet, since then there were extra measures taken to make sure nothing like that happens again.

Jack's crew was already gathered around the scene.

It was a body, sitting on a chair.

Well, it wasn't a chair as much as it was a… throne. Will couldn't tear his eyes away.

It smelled like sewage, of the bad kind, that kind that makes you want to walk away.

Will gagged, pulling his sleeve over his mouth and nose.

It was… shocking, to see a dead body like that in real life.

The last corpse Will saw was fresh, right after FBI agents made sure the man was dead. Back then the body didn't look so deformed and ugly, neither did the people in the pictures taken of the romantic killer's victims.

"Why does he look like that? And… smells so awful?"

"It's cold, imagine what it'd be like in summer." One the guys –Zeller, Will thought – said while he inspected something small held between his gloved fingers. Will grimaced, didn't even want to imagine.

"The body was already beginning to rot." The woman investigator said, approaching Will and Jack from the other side of the sitting corpse. "We believe he was brought here only days after being killed, and that's why he was only found now.

They were currently standing in an alley downtown. Just a back street that lead to some fire escapes and trash-cans belonging to some of the businesses nearby. If a body was put here so obviously, even the most ignorant of people would have at least called the police in the last… "How long ago was he killed?"

"Four days, maybe more."

Will glanced up, tried to actually _look_ at the body and not just stare at it. Tried to see the small details that were hidden if one didn't _want_ to see. "Wasn't the body supposed to be much more decomposed by this time?"

"He might have kept it in a freezer."

"Kept it in a freezer until he dropped it here." Jack added, sarcastically.

"Didn't exactly _drop it_ , though." Will couldn't help but observe, keeping his arm over his face even as he spoke. "He practically sat it on a throne."

The other male agent, maybe Price, leaned closer to the body. Will was impressed by how well he kept his disgust from showing. "He was clearly smeared with some type of oil, by the smell- probably olive."

"That's fitting." Will shrugged, making Agent Price look over at him with a smile.

"Why is it fitting?" Jack asked.

"Well," Will didn't look at him, he preferred to approach the body, try to get a look at it from a different angle. "In ancient cultures men were rubbed with olive oil before they were made kings."

"It's in the bible!" Price nodded in agreement. Will wondered how the man could appear to be so cheerful in the presence of a four-days-old body.

"Yeah." Will said. "But this king is naked."

"Maybe he wanted to mock him?" Zeller suggested.

"Maybe he wanted people to see what this king really was under all the layers of clothes."

"Do we have his background?" Jack asked aloud. An officer hurried over to hand him the victim's file.

Will couldn't help his own curiosity, wanted to take a look for himself. He completed the circle around the body, then made a straight line toward Jack. "What does it say?"

"A few records of bar-fights, nothing more."

"A thug." Will nodded. He took the file from Jack's hand, who was probably too surprised to stop it from happening, and began to flip through the papers- before he realized there was only one sheet in the whole file.

A waste of paper.

Will sighed, looked up to the sky. Light pollution blocked the stars on most days, but now – with the storm very close to hitting – the clouds lay low and heavy.

"What do you think?" He heard the woman investigator (Katz?) say. Her voice came as if from a great distance.

"I don't think there's much thinking to be done." Will sighed the words out, not looking away from the black silhouette the buildings created against the darkening sky.

It took a few moment, but then Will finally noticed the silence his words brought. He looked down to the people standing around him. At the puzzled look on the investigator's faces, he realized he hasn't explained himself enough. When he looked at Jack, and saw how close the man was to losing his patience, he hurried to re-arrange his thoughts so that they would make some sense to these people.

"He was brought here in some meat-truck – those that have a cooling system that keeps the meat from going bad. I looked at the victim's file, not so surprisingly- he owned such truck."

Jack made a noise that came from deep in his throat. Will ignored it.

"Whoever killed him killed him with a plan. He knew what he wanted to do, and he killed him – then put him in the truck – waited for the right moment… which took him a few days – and then arranged the body in a place he knew was secluded enough to not have security cameras, and yet enough people would notice while passing by for work. "

"He wanted the body to be found." Katz said.

Will looked at her, and saw her shift uncomfortably when their eyes locked briefly- before Will looked back to the body. "Yes, obviously. He made the effort of spreading _olive oil_ on the body and sitting it on a throne."

"Why?"

"Because he wanted the police officers that came to investigate the repot to _know_ this was something unusual, and by doing that would call their superiors – who then would call the FBI. And _here we are_."

"Attention seeker." Zeller concluded.

" _No_." Will took a deep breathe, held it, the smell was awful still. "He wanted attention, but not on himself. He simply wanted us to know that there is a back-story to this. Something _more_. The body is naked-" He gestured at it, "-It is no coincidence. There is a very well-known saying about _naked truths_. Naked kings, naked truths, naked reality… The killer provided us with the clues, now we need to get to the bottom of this to… _reveal_."

"Reveal what?"

"I guess we should find the truck, and then see where we go from there."

 *

They did find the truck, parked in a legal parking spot- the parking payed in advance using the victim's credit card. "Didn't want to draw attention by the wrong guys." Will immediately noticed. "Only us."

They looked up to the building housing the small family owned slaughterhouse. There wasn't even a name or a sign on the front, just a note of paper on the large window near the main entrance- holding phone numbers and means of contact.

The truck belonged to the butcher house – "Victim's probably worked in this place, nobody would find it odd to see the truck parked here for the weakened."  

Will walked in first. The receptionist opened his mouth to very skeptically ask for his identity – when the group of Jack's crew and two fellow police officers followed him right behind.

The receptionist gaped. And then stuttered out that he was going to call his boss right away.

Will looked around as they waited. The business was probably open 24/7 on shifts. Getting shipments from all over the country and butchering the meat before it goes bad was hard work, needed to be done fast and skillfully. The workers here were probably working in this place for decades – everybody knows each other, cares about each other. All workers probably belonged to the same family trees- one cousin bringing another when good jobs were hard to find and there was rent to pay.

One of the stained green doors opened, and into the room walked a mountain of a man. His red halo of a hair was giving him a few more inches of height.

His eyes were bright and held a great deal of intelligence.

Will felt something within himself respond immediately. Shocking him into silence as Jack hurried forward to shake the man's hand in introduce himself. Will was only half listening when explanations were given.

This man was an exceptionally powerful alpha. One of which could have been a great leader- when generals of armies went out to fight in an open battlefield with armors and horses. One upon a time, centuries ago.

When Jack motioned towards Will, Will forced himself to be present, leaving him a little bit unbalanced – with thoughts floating through his mind without any resemblance of order.  

"Will, do you have any particular questions you want to ask?" Jack said, and Will nodded shakily, before clearing his throat with a cough.

Before he had a chance to open his mouth, the great boss said: "An Omega? And one so young?"

Will looked at Jack sharply, almost glaring. Jack shrugged in a way that clearly said _deal with it._

"If you don't mind." Will began, acid finding its way into his voice. "I would like to ask you a few question regarding one of your workers."

"Let's go to my office, and sit. It is not large, so the team can wait outside." He gestured towards the rest of the agents and the police officers. Will saw the way Agent Katz lifted an eyebrow high enough to look comical.

"Fine." Jack agreed.

There was so much tension in Will's shoulders that his neck was beginning to ache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support and feedback <3


	8. Raining

To Mr. Sun's credit, his office was indeed on the smallish side. The walls were completely hidden behind metal shelves containing what looked to be the very history of the slaughterhouse since the day it first began its work in 1952 put into notes which were then put into binders.

Will looked around the office. There were no windows, and only three chairs- including the one Mr. Sun was sitting himself upon. This room was probably kept for when the boss wanted to scold someone, or organize a new worker in his books. There was a computer, but it looked like it missed a couple of updates since the nineties. It was hard to imagine anyone managing the whole business from this place.

The office gave an impression of a closet, more than an actual working space.

"You've had questions." Mr. Sun cut to the point, folding his hands on the face of the desk and looking at Will with a frown of deep concentration. Despite his surprise on Will being an Omega, he treated Will with nothing but respect.

Jack sat himself. Will, on the other side, was holding back from pacing around the room. There wasn't enough space to pace around in, anyway. He just tapped his thigh with the file, shifting from one leg to the other.

"Are you familiar with the name-" Will flipped the file open- "Nicolai Nisonov?"

Mr. Sun's eyes were bright and blue under the bush of his lowered eyebrows. He glared at Will for a silent moment. Will, unexpectedly, found himself growing calm under that gaze. There was something very grounding and relaxing in the predictable, and Mr. Sun was a very predictable man.

"He's one of the truck drivers we employ. And in fact-" Mr. Sun briefly glanced down at a list that was resting on top of tens of other lists on his desk- "He begins a shift in thirty minutes."

Will thought it was impressive that the man could either remember the lists of shifts by heart- or was capable to get any type of information from what appeared to be a whole sheet covered in words and numbers so many it looked like a complete mess. Maybe Will wasn't giving him enough credit. He smiled, trying to be friendly. "Someone will need to pull a double shift, I'm afraid."

The look Mr. Sun gave him was of mortification.

Jack sighed.

*

*

"We need to take a look around." Will insisted, the third time he was trying to convince Jack about it. But the man was as stubborn as a mule.

"There is no basis for farther questioning."

"Jack-" Will jogged to catch up with him as they made their way to where the FBI vans were parked. "-The killer put the truck _right here_ -"

"-You said it was so that no one will notice the truck was missing and find it odd. Maybe the killer simply didn't want anyone to be suspicious about it until he put the body in place."

" _No._ " The heat of fury was reaching as far as Will's ears, making him feel like he was going to burst. "We practically let him go-!"

"-Will." Jack stopped, and turned to face him. Will instinctively took half a step back. "We _questioned_ Mr. Sun- the victim's employer. We took a look at the document… _all the documents_. We disturbed the man's work, not allowing him to leave the office even as he needed to call the victim's family and make arrangements around one of his workers _being murdered_. Enough is enough. When you have other leads you want discuss with me… you have my number. Until then? Well. Stay out of trouble."

"What's that supposed to mean-" Jack entered the car and shut the door in his face. Leaving Will standing on the side-walk. He could see himself in the reflection of the dark passenger window. Wide eyes, wild hair, covered in so many layers of flannel and knits that he looked more like an angry child drawing a tantrum, than a special investigator of the FBI.

The wind was cold, and even the fuel of Will's frustrations did nothing against the shivers taking hold of his body.

The automatic window rolled down, and Jack looked at him, his eyebrows lifted in something very resembling pity. "Need a lift, Will?"

"To the subway." Will said, entering without confirming if Jack was actually driving in the same direction or not. Jack didn't complain, and Will didn't care.

*

*

The storm was making it hard to sleep. Will lay awake in bed that night, his eyes open and unseeing. All he could think about was the murder case. The failed interview.

He asked Mr. Sun questions about the slaughterhouse, about the shifts, about his family. All he did was trying to find a thread of a clue to follow, just something small said without thinking. He _was_ getting close back there, Mr. Sun was losing his patience- speaking more harshly and _honestly_ the more he was trapped inside the claustrophobic office together with Will and Jack.

And then Mr. Sun glared at Jack.

And then Jack turned to Will, and said that they were leaving.

"Fucking-!" Even hours after Will arrived home soaking wet and with a running nose, he couldn't hold back from cursing out loud. His hands clenched into fists and his calves tensed - ready to jump and pace around the room.

Will held a fist up to his face. There were traces of teeth from where he already bitten himself in frustration.

Why would someone kill Nicolai Nisonov and leave the body practically on a silver plate for the FBI to find and investigate?

 _Why would someone sit him on a throne?_ _Naked?_

Will closed his eyes. In his mind he went back to the scene, circled around it freely- without Jack or anyone else interrupting him.

He looked at the body, _looked_ , and _studied_ it all anew. No assumptions and no pre-known facts. Just whatever was there for him to see.

Will took a deep breath, could taste the vile air in the alley. It was so _stinking_ , like meat forgotten and left to rot without decomposing properly. It happened to him once, he forgot leftovers in the trash can in the apartment for a weekend, came back and the whole room was flooding with the stench.

"Why would someone leave you here?" Will asked aloud.

The body blinked at him, and inside his dream- it wasn't scary or repulsing, Will could feel nothing but curiosity nudging at him.

He walked closer, inspecting the body from a different angle. "There is no bruise to be found on your body except that one around your throat; that means your body was not harmed while you were alive." Nicolai neither confirmed nor revoked, but Will didn't need his cooperation in order to get to the bottom of this riddle. "You were either strangled by a rope - a zip tie more like or…." Will tilted his head. "There was dirt on your feet, though. Someone dragged you, and didn't find it a very easy task. Someone with a smaller build. But then, how did he win over you in a battle without poisoning you? Which your file says they didn't? There was clearly a fight. Someone came behind you, your fingernails are rough with the attempt to free yourself; there are no traces of skin or blood of anyone else but you. There are traces of scratches along your neck, where the rope was choking the life out of you.

"If I were a strong person, I wouldn't bother with a fight or a poison, I'd just make you lose consciousness simply and effectively.

"If I were a strong person, and had known you, I wouldn't have strangled you. I've had a reason to kill you, it will probably be in anger. A rope? Too calculating and skilled. This is not a murder of passion."

Will paused. Thinking.

"For some reason, I feel that your death was as non-personal as the term could possibly be."

Nicolai blinked at him, his eyes milky and very much dead.

"But your spectacular presentation was very… thoughtful." Will hummed, biting the skin around his thumb. "I feel as if the circumstances of your death and those or your throne are very much… not connected. You've been dead for four days before someone finally put you in that alley. You were only partly beginning your decomposition, as if you were put into a fridge for keeping. But why would the one who killed you so effortlessly and without a trace of a fight- go through such lengths? It wasn't a loving, passionate battle to the death, it could as well have been someone you are familiar with who wants to get rid of you.

"But then, how come the death is so impersonal?"

Will paced around the throne. Trying to figure out what he's been missing.

"It's as if someone tried to get rid of you, and someone else prevented that from happening." Pacing on, Will started to come up with every thought the floated through his mind. "It feels like there are two actors, both behind the scene, leaving you to speak for their intentions, while they prefer to remain in the shadows.

"I don't know about you, but I think I know of two type casts that fit this description perfectly." Will stopped in front of Nicolai, returning Nicolai's stare. "Villains, and superheroes. We have some struggle between good and evil in here, very dramatic." Will smirked despite himself. "Very clear to see on which side was the one who killed you, and the one who spread olive oil on your dead, naked skin, and put you on a throne for all to see."

The sound of the rain reached his dream, and drops of water entered the scene inside his head. The water didn't touch Will, it didn't touch Nicolai, but it did distract Will from his thoughts.

"I think someone killed you and put you in a fridge. The meat too precious to go to waste. The killer thought your body valuable, and wanted to keep it in good condition while he figure out what to do with you.

"But then, someone interrupted that plan. Kidnapped your dead body, put you in an alley, put you on _a throne_ , naked. Like a naked king.

"Who are kings beneath their armors and cloak? Just bodies, just human, like all the rest of us. Their organs similar to ours. When we take the costumes away- that's all we are… bodies." Will paused. "Just like animals. The very same animals that are brought to the slaughterhouse. People try to prevent _their_ meat from going bad. Because it's worth money. It's worth….Oh. Shit."     

The banging thunder almost didn't reach him, but the sound if the rain hitting the window with the force of the wind gained his attention.

Will couldn't help himself, he got up- tucking the several blankets tight around his shoulders – and sat on his knees, facing the window a few meters from his bed- on the other side of the living room.

The drops hit the window in a melody of combined sounds merging into a single endless one. Will was hypnotized by it. He tried to follow one drop and see how it trailed down the glass- but soon found it impossible.

It was impossible to track one drop of water when there were so many hitting the window at once.

Because, how could you track something so small that looked so much like all the others, when it was mingled and confused with the others- getting mixed up in everything else until it became as good as invisible.

It was such a clever idea, to hide a drop of water inside a rain.

Will sat there like that, watching the rain fall, until the rain stopped, the wind ceased, and the sun shone through the fog of the early morning.

*

"Jack Crawford." Came the voice of someone barely awake from the other side of the line.

"We need to go look at the slaughterhouse."

" _Will_." Jack sounded like he was very tempted to shut the phone without hearing the rest of what Will had to say. He began to mumble something that sounded like an apology. Waking up his wife?

"They're hiding bodies in th-"

"-What?"

"They are hiding _bodies_ in the _meat_ , Jack."

"The hell." There was silence from both sides of the line for a while. "I can't come with you today, and I can't send you alone."

"Can someone else come with me?" Will chose to ignore to way Jack's mistrust stung. Will was a newbie, he wasn't supposed to be trusted alone on something like that.

"Well." Jack sighed into the phone, and Will heard a movement, as if his boss was getting up from the bed and walking somewhere. "Can you ask Dr. Lecter to come with you? I need my people in the lab on another urgent case."

"Okay." Will agreed immediately. He couldn't care less who comes with him, as long as he is allowed to get back in the slaughterhouse and sniff around.

"And Will!" Jack called, when Will was already about to end the call. "Wait until it's seven."

" _Jack-!_ "

The line went dead.

Will sat there, vibrating with anger until there was nothing he could do but angrily shout words even _he_ didn't understand and throw a pillow on the opposite wall.

It was so unsatisfying that he went to where the pillow dropped and threw it on the bed using more force than necessary.

The pillow jumped on the mattress, and off the bed, coming to a rest on the carpet, mocking him with the harmlessness of it.

*

*

Hannibal looked at him and didn't say anything.

Will sat in Hannibal's kitchen, holding a cup of untouched coffee, and glared furiously out the window. His foot was jumping on the metal stabilizer between the bar-chair's legs.

Hannibal was sitting on the opposite side of the island. Sipping coffee and not taking his eyes off Will, not even for a second.

Ever since Will called him to warn he was coming, asking for the address, Hannibal appeared to be holding back a grin. It was in his voice when he said Will was very much welcomed, and it was on his face when he opened the door.

It was in his eyes when he said Will looked like he needed a refreshment before they go, as Will looked like he hardly caught any sleep.

"What happened to make you so… smirkish, so early in the morning?" Will's voice sounded rough with sleeplessness even to his own ears.

"Not a morning person, are you, Will?"

Will tensed at the teasing tone, frowning at Hannibal with narrowed eyes. "I'd appreciate it if you hurry to finish this coffee so we can _move on_."

"Is there a danger to someone's life?"

"It is the reason why I want to go there. _In order to find out_."

"I see. Then, you are right, we shall leave immediately."

Will had a moment when he didn't really know what to do or say, he didn't expect Hannibal to just agree with him and take the coffee mug from his hands. Hannibal was careful to not spill the coffee from Will's mug, it remained as full as when it was brought to him.

In Hannibal's car, Will was still a little bit lost. Not sure what to say. Hannibal drove fast, but remained on the side of civilized.

His car smelled like the plastic wraps, Will could only guess it was because the car appeared to be as good as new… and expensive. So new and expensive it still held the odor of straight-out-of-the-factory.

It reminded Will of a job his father had, once. A yacht of some big-shot millionaire down south. Back when his father was still restless from staying still; and there were jobs aplenty.  

Will didn't like the smell of new things, didn't back then as a child- and still remained with the opinion that something worn – when it was cherished a year after year- gained the smell of love and affection. While new cars and new yachts could only smell of money and nothing else.

They didn't speak on the way there. Will found it comforting. There was a break, finally, between the rains, and the day was exceptionally sunny for this season. Will spent the minutes gazing out the window and thinking about nothing important, he _couldn’t_ think, period. He was making an effort not to fall asleep.

*

He must have fallen asleep, because he woke up to Hannibal nudging his shoulder. The passenger door was open, and Hannibal was standing outside, looking at him with a worried frown. "Are you sure you're feeling well?"

"Yes." He yawned, coughed.

Did he catch a cold because he walked from the station back to his apartment last evening? No matter.

He stood up, and blinked against the sun, his head feeling like it was filled with cotton.

Mr. Sun wasn't happy to see him again. He glared at Will, glared at Hannibal, turned back to Will. "Wasn't yesterday enough for your investigation?"

"I'm sorry to say that… no. I would very much like to go inside the slaughterhouse today. There is something I need to check. It won't be long."  

"That-I-" Mr. Sun looked like an owl. His eyes widened and his shoulders tensed. It was clear for all to see that if it were culturally acceptable, Mr. Sun would have had Will kicked out the door, literally. But Will was cute and very much an Omega working for the FBI, And Mr. Sun could do nothing but bristle like an angry cat and get his face all red from lack of oxygen.  

Hannibal remained a silent presence, following Will to get their respective protective and sterile coats, switch shoes into plastic boots, and right into the corridor leading to the stairs leading to the metal cage-like bridges that crossed over the main hall. They were no allowed to walk down to where the meat was, especially not when Will was having a cough every few minutes. Will didn't have a choice but to accept that.

Mr. Sun couldn't accompany them for long, it wasn't ten minutes into their tour when he presented his son, James, and walked away. James was as tall as his father, but much leaner. His eyes and hair were dark, and he looked bored to tears.

Will didn't care. He walked around, not waiting for James to lead the way. He knew, logically, that there was no chance of getting rid of James for the sake of actually _sniffing around_ like he _really_ wanted to do, but… oh well. "Did you see, hear, or had any kind of unusual conversations? Either with Mr. Nisonov or with one of his friends?"

He heard James scoff. "I'd be surprised if that man had any friends at all."

Will almost grinned, held it back. He stopped, inspecting a door while the wheels in his head turned and turned. "He was intolerable to be around? What, cursed a lot? I thought that guys working here didn't mind this kind of behavior."

"It wasn't _that_." James hurried to defend his hard-around-the-edges-machoism. Will knew James wouldn't stand looking shy or embarrassed around an omega that was very near to his age. "The man hardly spoke to anyone. The only time I've seen him speaking was on his first day here, and that was only to ask questions."

"So he was sulky."

"Yes. Looked like he'd rather hang himself than work another day, but he came to shifts on time and didn't make any trouble, so Dad didn't mind him."

"So he didn't get into any fights, with one of the workers?"

"Gods no. nobody cared about this thug before his death."

When Will turned to look at him with surprise on his face, James shrugged. "Truth's harsh sometimes."

"Indeed it is." Hannibal said, standing on the other side of Will.

"I see." Will concluded the conversation, he got what he needed from it. "Do you mind if we go inside? It's locked." Will gestured at the door.

"It's just a laundry closet." James stated. Looking at Will is if he was stupid. "There's a sign."

Yes, there was.

Will smiled patiently, and James rolled his eyes and approached them with his set of keys.

As James had his back turned to them, unlocking and opening the heavy door- Will pulled a single cable of electricity so harshly it came out of the lamp it was connected to. The lamp was one out of many, and the lack of its light was hardly noticeable. Will looked at Hannibal, hoping to silence him with a glare.

Hannibal looked amused, that goddamned grin of his making a re-appearance.

By the time James found the correct key and finished his struggle with the very rarely used (and very rusty- Will took notice) lock, the damaged cable was safely tangled and hidden with all the other ones.

Will pretended to be interested in the shelves of uniforms inside the dusty closet, His cough was getting worse. Hannibal looked at him with raised eyebrows, but Will turned his back to him in clear dismissal.

The alarm was finally being heard from the main hall.

"What is that?" Will lifted turned to James.

James looked concerned, but not overly so. Circuit was a fragile matter in a place that had electricity working 24/7. Short circuit became almost trivial in these conditions. "I'll go check to make sure it's nothing serious, please wait here."

"Of course." Will watched him leave, glancing around the doorpost to see James disappearing around a corner. He turned to Hannibal. "Let's go."

"What are we searching for?" Hannibal questioned, but didn't protest when will began walking _fast_ towards the nearest non-automatic stairwell. Hannibal followed him without a single complain.

"A needle in a haystack."

"It's all very exciting." Hannibal admitted.  Will couldn't help but return the smile Hannibal sent him. "Sneaking like thieves."

"Are you a stranger to thieving?"

"I must confess then when I do it, it's with less graceful mischief."

Will released laughter that was out of place, considering their current situation. Will was honestly relying on James trying to help searching the screw that went loose and caused the alarm going off- and that the young man won't discover them missing before they had a chance to complete their mission.  

"Say it if you see anything that looks odd or unusual. _Anything_."

"I will." Hannibal agreed.

It took them a while, a lot of time wasted on finding their way inside the maze of the slaughterhouse. Will made sure both he and Hannibal memorize the way they've made as best as they could, so they would be able to return back safely.

They went down three floors before Will stopped in front of a door with a sign of cleaning supplies on it.

"What is it?" Hannibal asked from beside him.

"This is the second door with this label on it, in this corridor."

"And?"

"All the other floors had only one room of each category, but in here I see two." Will glanced back to where they came from. Indeed, there was another door with an identical sign about four rooms down.

"You find it suspicious?"

"They could as well have put no sign on the door at all. Wouldn't _you_ have found it suspicious, then?"

"I don't know."

"Let's take a look." Will pulled out two bent pins and shoved them in the lock, he wriggled them around experimentally until there was a telling 'click' sound.

It was a normal cleaning closet.

"Let's try the other one, hurry." Will didn't bother to lock the door again, but jogged over to the other door. He unlocked it in the same way, and opened it to reveal an empty room, save from another door on the far wall.

"Ah." He heard Hannibal's amused response.

The other door inside the room was locked as well, this time electronically.

"Do you have a credit card on you?"

Hannibal pulled out his purse.

"Thanks." Will took it hastily from his hands, growing impatient. They needed to hurry. He shoved it between the wall and the door, wriggling it in much the same way he had the pins earlier.

The alarm gave a beep of complain, and then the door opened with a soft sigh of cold air, coming from within.

"It's here."

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure yet." Will admitted, growing nervous.

Will looked around to see Hannibal watching him with an intense look in his eyes. "Stay close, within reach, of someone gages you from behind you can hit me or kick me or something."

"Wouldn't it be better if we call Jack?"

"What if it's nothing illegal down there? I…" He paused, trying to put some sense into his words. "I don't want to lose this job. Do you understand?"

Hannibal didn't answer with words, but he nodded his head in agreement.

They went down the stairs, their steps hurried but careful. The corridor was lit from the floor below, so they didn't need to use flashlights.

Will wasn't sure what he'd see once they reach downstairs, but… he expected the worst.

It was.

They first thing they saw was a room filled with medical and research equipment. Surgical tables with machines and materials found usually in an infirmary or a hospital.

It wasn't a hospital.

And no one was getting healed down here.

Will walked towards the back, where large fridges - exactly the same as what he saw upstairs in the main hall of the slaughterhouse – were put against the wall. He took a deep breath, opened a door.

Plastic bags with labels on them were arranged messily around. Livers, kidneys, blood, even bone marrows. Will didn't need to see anymore.

"We need to call Ja-" Something hit him _hard_ on the temple.

He almost lost consciousness, great pain coming in waves of agony. Time seemed to freeze and then fast-forward in a matter of moments.

Someone big and angry was looking at him with his hand raised, ready to kill.

 _Hannibal?_ _Where is Hannibal?_

Will suppressed his urge to go ill, he hit the man right on the throat with his fingers stretched forward, trying to buy himself time to catch his own breath and blink the tears away from his eyes.

The man was unfamiliar, and he chocked, for a second turning around. Will slumped against the open door of the refrigerator, the same door he was probably hit with. He took gulps of air, looking around and trying to find something to fight with.

A row of medical knifes blinked at him from a table a few meters away from him. Will ran, didn't stop even when he felt a kick hitting his calves hard enough to make him trip and lose his balance. He fell, holding the edge of the table with his fingers, clenching on it.

By the time the man came at him with a roar of fury, Will turned around with the tiny knife in his hand.

He stabbed the man on the shoulder, enough to draw his attention. The man cried in pain, but it was more important to make sure Will's death is fast and successful. He brought his hands up, to choke- most likely.

Will felt his heart beating like a hammer, could think of nothing but surviving. When hands closed around his neck and clenched painfully, he used his hands to search for another knife. He found it lying near his shoulder, and he swung his hand up, aiming for the face.

He hit the temple, and run the knife down the man's face using all the strength he's got left in him.

The skin parted like fabric.

Crying out loud, the man tried to move away, wincing. Will used the momentum of his movement to sneak the knife beneath his jaw.

When he pushed the knife into his flesh, it was almost effortless.

Blood sprayed down on him like rain, he had to close his eyes against it.

His mouth was open, trying to put some oxygen back into his lungs, he began to choke on the blood, gagging on the taste of it. The blood continued to come down on him until he turned his face away.

Even when the man collapsed on top of him, Will was powerless to lift him off.

He heard footsteps coming their way, a dark silhouette against the brightness of the room. The contrast hurt his head, he winced, closing his eyes and struggling to breath. It was hard, there was another body right on top of him. His head ached like bloody fucking hell.

Will sagged, losing the battle against the darkness creeping.

Ha fainted right there on the floor, covered with blood and gore, lying beneath the man he killed.

The fridge was still open.


	9. Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry of the delay, I'm really busy with RL things I need to take care of.
> 
> I also edited the first few chapters and that took me a while.
> 
> Thank you for your patience! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, don't forget to leave a comment! :)

Will woke up to the feeling of sore limbs and a blanket that didn't shelter from the chill in the air. He took in a gasp of the very same chilly air and shivered.

Keeping his eyes shut against the light that was visible through the skin of his eyelids- Will made an attempt to gather his thoughts. He remembered all that happened to him clearly, going down to the basement with Hannibal, getting hit in the head, having that fight with the stranger man, winning. He could remember surrendering to the physical darkness, losing consciousness. He was filled with relief that he was still alive. But there was no changing the facts now- he had a gut-feeling about the slaughterhouse, and that feeling turned out to be right.

His only wish now, was that the ones who found him lying in a pool of blood down in the basement- were the good guys.

He opened his eyes to the white ceiling and the beeps of a hospital. Will's head ached something horrible, but he could stand the pain for a while longer, no need to call a nurse. He needed to keep himself aware and sharp in the next few hours.

The room was completely empty expect for himself, and that somehow put him more on edge. The only reason for no one to be constantly by his side was either because a lot of time must have passed since the incident in the slaughterhouse. Or perhaps- no time at all, not enough time for any of the small amount of his familiars to come watch over his unconscious body.

There were many questions Will wanted to ask. He wanted to see Jack- first thing. He wanted to see Hannibal, if the man was even alive. He wanted to know what had happened.

He knew already that the one who put Nicolai Nisonov on a throne back in that alley wouldn't be found- couldn’t be found, really- without this mysterious shadow of a man revealing himself all on his own. It wouldn't be now, when his goal was achieved, not when the FBI found the secret lab and the illegal work being done down there. No, this man was the type that would rather see how far he could stretch the rope before it snaps.

Yet still, knowing all of that, Will couldn’t help but be awfully curious. This man, the shadow man- whoever he was- knew about the human-organ trafficking, knew about it _before_ Nisonov was killed, but he didn't act back then, no. And he wasn't satisfied with sending the FBI a note about it, oh no. He had to… make a presentation of it. Gloat on its wit. He _liked_ playing games with the investigators of the FBI.

It felt like hours passed before Will had enough of his own head, filled with these constant thoughts, like _bees_ that didn't give him any rest. He was tired, but he wouldn't let himself fall back asleep just yet.  

Will looked down at his own body, covered in the pastel blue of hospital's thin blankets. He decided to try and move his fingers, just for the hell of it - convincing himself that he would _have_ to try _sometime_ , and why not now?

An odd ants-like sensation spread to his arms and all the way up to the nape of his neck. He shuddered, it felt _wrong_ somehow. But then again- he must have suffered from concussion, leaving his body in a…. not an ideal condition.

Three deep breathes later, and a lot of self-convincing – Will tried to move his right hand from beneath the hospital blanket. He was almost successful- before he felt himself giving up and letting the arm rest back down on the mattress.

He blinked up at the ceiling. He took a deep breath. He tried again.

Again, he managed to move his hand a little- but was afraid of moving it beyond the edge of the bed, he was afraid of somehow not being able to hold it up properly and- he was afraid. That's it. Afraid to realize how weak he was.

By the time Alana walked into the room, Will was so bored, even his own thoughts ceased to entertain him. He was almost catatonic in how deep he went into the depth of his own head- so deep that he literally felt like he was not present in the room anymore. Until-

"Hello, Will." Alana wasn't the type to not announce herself once she stepped into the room. It almost made Will smile, and he forced himself to come back out to the present.

"Hi."

"You must be feeling terrible."

Will blinked at her, blinked back at the ceiling. "How many days?"

"It's been barely ten hours ago that you were brought here, if that's what you're asking." Alana took a sit. "So, at least about that- you don't need to worry yourself."

"Do I have other things I need to worry about?"

"In my opinion, there are far too many."

Will smiled, it felt forced and bitter. His face wasn't completing the gesture to its fullness, he must have looked like he was sneering, but Alana recognized it for what it was and smiled back at him.

"Jack shouldn't have let the two of you walk in there alone."

"We were together."

"Alone. Together."

"Ah." Will laughed, the motion sent a wave of pain to his head. "Jack was convinced we will find nothing, otherwise… trust me," Will paused to breathe, talking made his throat feel sore. "He wouldn't have sent us alone like that." When Alana did nothing but look at him, Will closed his eyes, the exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him. "I think the only reason he decided to ask Hannibal for a favor was because he and Hannibal discussed me in private before. I can only guess what they said to each other, but whatever it was- it made Hannibal agree to accompany me- even if there will be nothing for us to find, in their opinion, at least." He opened his eyes.

Alana frowned, studied his expression.

Everyone had their on defense mechanism against unwanted surprises. Will's was attacking to eliminate… Alana's… was to gather intelligence and re-calculate her next moves. It took her a few seconds before she replied: "Jack gave you that impression?"

"Hannibal did."

The blue in Alana's eyes appeared cold in white light of the hospital. "How come?"

"Humoring me, not even questioning me once. He wanted to see how far I'd climb and how magnificently I'd fall. He changed his mind when we found that hidden basement, though."

The sensation of Alana's discomfort was reaching him from where she was sitting by his bed. It left him itching - almost physically fidgeting from it. "It's hard for me to picture Hannibal doing something so reckless with you, or with anyone."

"Hard, but not impossible?"

"What could be his reason to cooperate with Jack on something like that, Will?"

"Well, Jack must have requested a report from him, on whether I'd be fit to work in the FBI at all."

Alana's mouth turned down into a displeased pout. She knew there was logic in his words- and that's what made her so upset.

Before she had a chance to voice her opinion on the matter- the door opened to no one else but Jack Crawford himself.

"Will." His eyes scanned Will's face- probably taking in the bruises. "I was told by your doctor that you might wake up around this time. How are you?"

"Alive."

Awkward silence, in which Alana and Jack glanced at each other like they wanted to say some very harsh things to each other- but not in front of Will.

There must have been a lot of things said not in front of Will lately.

"It was reckless, going in there like that. You should have called me."

"I didn't want to call you for nothing, and inconvenience you, Jack."

"You were afraid I wouldn't trust you."

"I was afraid of giving you a false call."

"That's understandable." Alana hurried to butt right into the conversation, ignoring the look Jack sent her. "Considering the fact that you are treated only as a temporary agent, instead of a real one-"

"-He can't be given a badge, he's not an agent-"

"-He _can_ be given the reassurance that his employment with the FBI is not a fleeting one."

"Will didn't pass any kind of tests, his qualifications don't justify something like that-"

"-You sent him, without a gun, without proper training or knowledge-"

"-That was a mistake." Jack said with such finality that even Alana swallowed her own words and did nothing but stare at him incredulously. It was evident in her eyes that Jack's admitting did nothing to make her forgive him. "And it won't happen again."

"That is the _second_ time Will hears that promise from you-"

"-Yes. And I'm afraid that in Will's case, he's going to hear that a lot from now on."

"There might not be a third time for your apology, Jack!" Alana turned to him, livid, her eyes wide and her cheeks full of color. "This might be your last chance to reflect, _truly_ reflect on your actions so far, and see where you've gone wrong. I'm _this_ close to forbid any type of future contact Will has with any of this!"

"No one could know what we'll find down there." Will said, and his words put a halt to the argument, even if only temporarily.

" _You_ knew, Will!"

"Maybe that's not enough." Will returned her frown with one of his own. "The entire section of the FBI under Jack Crawford's supervision cannot be tossed around on my whims and guessing games."

"None of this is a game." Jack said, something heavy and grieving in his voice, so poignant it made Will tense. "And maybe it is time this… _situation_ will cease to be treated as such. I will speak to my superiors, and see what can be done with Will's title and place, _permanently_ , in my private team of detectives, directly under my _own_ supervision. From this point on, Will, I think it will be a good idea if your job with us will remain in the lab. No going around questioning, at least not until we can arrange for you to go through basic training."

"I can be an agent?"

Jack looked at him, something in the corner of his eye twitched, and Will knew what he was going to hear next- before Jack even opened his mouth.

"I'm afraid, with your background, that won't happen. Never _will_ happen. _But_ ," Jack paused considering his next words. "What you do, your way of thinking… it can save a lot of people's lives in the future."

"That's all I want." Will admitted.

"Then we both are on the same page in this." Jack nodded at him in acknowledgement.

"I think we should all agree that Will _does_ want to, and _can_ help people. But _not_ with the price of his own health and safety." Alana added, just to make sure everyone in the room has no doubt about her agenda, and about the fact that she wasn't going to simply let it drop anytime soon. "Will is a priority, victims and corpses come after."

Jack didn’t answer her, he looked at Will once, his gaze full of unsaid gratitude. And then he wished Will a full recovery before leaving the room.

It wasn't five minutes later before Hannibal walked in, replacing him.

The hospital must have had a rule of no more than two visitors at a time.

"Are you okay?" Will asked, and received a smile in return.

"I should be the one asking _you_ that question, Will. I'm not the one in a hospital bed."

"I lost sight of you, and expected the worst."

"While hoping for the best?" Alana looked between them kindly, her face softened considerably since Jack left the room.  

Will nodded to the best of his ability. At least the pillows were piled high enough for him to be able to look at the other people standing in the room, otherwise he would have had been having a conversation with the ceiling. "I don't even know my own condition. I guess I didn't enter a coma, so there was no need for the doctors to see me awake yet?"

"Maybe your doctor was simply intimidated by the presence of seniors in the room." Hannibal said, and Alana chuckled at his words.

"I bet on it." She smiled, freely. It made her look even more beautiful.

"What happened to you, back in there?" Will asked, his voice began to sound raspy from all the talking.

"I wasn't smart enough to listen to you more carefully, and when someone gagged me from behind I was too far away to signal to you." Light was reflecting in Hannibal's eyes, and his head was tilted just-so.  

Will didn't want to feel disappointed, and so he shoved the feeling somewhere where it wouldn't bother him at the present moment. "It happens, we'll be smarter the next time around." Will rubbed at the blanket on top of his thigh, and looked down to watch the motion of his own fingers. The act wasn't out of distraction like it usually happened with him- but out of embarrassment. He hoped that at least one of the doctors in front of him wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

When silence stretched, it was Alana who broke it with a: "I'll go find your Doctor, Will. He should have been here by now, senior doctors in the room or no." And with that - she got up from the hospital chair and left the room. Will noticed the way she turned before shutting the door completely, as if trying to glance inside and see if Hannibal and Will were still standing where she left them. As if they'd move only when she's not looking.

"It was incredible," Will startled at Hannibal's voice. "What you did there."

Mixed feelings twisted inside Will's chest until it was so hard to tell them apart - it left him overwhelmed. "I did nothing." He turned away, looking at the only window in the room, small and too far away to see through.

"You are… full of surprises." It didn't sound like Hannibal was mocking him, but it did sound like _something_. Will wasn't sure what it is, but it made him feel uncomfortable with the conversation. "It was as if the whole situation was wrapped around your little finger, you turned it and turned it _around_ and around toward your goal."

"We were caught, and I almost died." Will glanced at the Doctor, glanced away again. "We both almost died."

"Because of my mistake, not yours."

Will narrowed his eyes. "I thought you were better than making such silly mistakes, as not noticing someone following us down the stairs, as leaving too large of a gap between us." He didn't dare look at Hannibal as he said these words. He was too emotional to be able to predict himself, it was better to keep a distance.

"Alana said you have a hyper-tendency toward empathy. I didn’t believe it until I saw you in there, around other people."

"You think I'm twisted."

"I think you have a potential for greatness."

Will almost chocked on nothing, he glared at Hannibal from the corner of his eye. "You sound curious."

Hannibal leaned back in his chair and brushed non-existent dust from his crossed knee.

"Don't." Will said when he saw Hannibal open his mouth to say something. Will didn't want to listen. Wasn't interested. Their eyes locked. "Whatever curiosity you have about me…" Well felt himself tense. "Crush it."

*

*

*

The institution for past abused omegas seemed particularly dull that morning as Will made his way up the stairs. He was supposed to meet his new psychiatrist, and he was already late by five minutes.

It was a man named Sam Ashclif, he was 41 years old, and he has been working in collaboration with the IPAO for the last five years. That was all Will knew about him.

When Will reached the sixth floor (taking the elevator for the last two floors), he thought it would be useless and pretentious to knock on the door to Dr. Ashclif's office – but he did it, anyway.

"Is open!" Came the voice from inside the room, and Will couldn't help but compare this beginning to the one he had with Alana so many years ago. Back then the door to Alana's private therapy room was left open for him, with her standing by the large windows overlooking the park behind the building, waiting for him to arrive for their session.

Back then – he didn't arrive for the first session scheduled for him, and to the second he arrived thirty minutes late.

Seriously, Alana should give herself more credit for his progress since then.

Will didn't want to be the first to speak, and so he entered the room and the first thing he did was look around.

He had the urge to begin his usual pacing, and it took a lot of self-control in order to avoid doing that.

Sam didn't have books in his office. Photographs of difference scenes of wild nature adorned the walls, all in the same size – and with the same thin black frame.

"You are Mr. Will Graham."

 _Indeed_. Will just nodded his head, still observing a photograph of a rocky dessert. Will wondered where it was taken.

"Our appointment began ten minutes ago, those ten minutes are going to be written down by me at the end of this session. Once you'd reach 60 minutes in future delays, you'll have to come and see me for an extra session." 

Will blinked, couldn't help but look at the man sitting behind the dark oak desk. Sam was wearing a navy sweater, a scarf was hanging from the back-rest of his large black chair. He was beginning to lose hair, but not too noticeably. And he wasn't looking at Will, but – his eyes were fixed on something he was writing down in a notebook. Will couldn’t tell if it was about him, nothing about the man's body language indicated that he was aware of Will being in the room.

If he wouldn't have already talked to him, Will would have had a difficult time convincing himself this was not just a very weird dream of his.

Dr. Sam Ashclif glanced up once, his expression natural. "Well, sit." It wasn't said meanly, but it was still formed not unlike a direct command.

Will only accepted commands from people he trusted. And this man… this man didn't give him any reason to trust him. "Would it be okay if I remain standing?"

That sure gave Sam a reason to pause his frantic writing and finally look up at Will properly. "Please, sit." Will noticed how Sam immediately changed his tone of voice, his manner of approach. When Will finally took the three steps to the chair, and sat down in front of Ashclif – the Doctor shut the notebook with a soft thud, and opened another from a pile he had on his desk. "So, we're both sitting and ready. Let's begin."

*

*

*

"How is he?" Alana sipped on coffee, looking at him.

"Very… professional."

She laughed. "You make it sound monstrous."

"How is Margo?"

"Don't you two speak?"

"Hardly."

Alana sighed in leaned back in her chair. They were sitting in her office, she was done with work for the day – and Will took the opportunity to visit. "She's not very happy, but handling herself."

"I can imagine."

"Has your new psychiatrist tried to talk to you about your past, yet?" She said it with a smile, but Will knew it would always remain a sore spot between them. He was surprised she even felt the urge to bring it up.

"He mostly asked me about my every day routines, about my ODP doses, about my social life outside of the institution."

"Which consists of?"

Will shrugged, making Alana laugh again.

They both heard the creak of the door as it opened, and glanced up at the same time.

"Oh, Abe." Alana got up from the chair, walking briskly towards the young man standing in the entrance to her office. "Hello." Her tone of voice was soft and welcoming, but the guy with the dark hair continued to fidget.

Will couldn't help but study him, something in the dark, big eyes… drawing him in. a freckled face, short hair. He looked almost plain, but not really. He was young. Really young. Fifteen-ish kind of young. Everything about him was thin and long, almost awkwardly so.

"Uhm." Abe blushed, looked down to the floor, looked to the side, looked at the windows – and then back at Alana. "Is this a bad time?"

"Not at all, did you wish to talk to me about something?"

Will knew that his own unwavering gaze was unsettling for the teenager, but he just _couldn't_ tear his eyes away. "Would you like me to leave?" Will offered, not looking away from the slight blush creeping up Abe's neckline.

"We should continue this catch-up sometime soon." Alana smiled at Will, she appreciated his sensitivity.

Will got up from his chair and started to make his exit. "Of course, I'll be waiting for it."

"Wonderful."

In order to walk out through the main entrance, Will had to brush by Abe's slightly trembling form. He smelled like a dried ground covered with pine, and something deeper – like a sweetness that was both natural and unique at the same time.

"Goodbye."

"Bye, Will." Alana's eyes followed him out.

Abe's and Will's eyes locked once. And Will could feel surprise filling him. He wasn't expecting those dark eyes to be so _dark_. At vast contrast with the rest of him.

Even after the door closed and Will began to make his way down the stairs – he returned to the moment when their eyes locked for a brief moment - over and over again.

*

"Will Graham." Someone sing-songed behind him.

Will turned sharply, to see a woman sitting on the small platform above the passage Will had just passed. It was an underground path, going beneath one of the largest intersections in the city – built there to save time for people who walked by foot.

She mixed almost perfectly with the graffiti that covered the bare concrete. The pale light of the clouded sky made her eyes look dark, and her perfectly curly hair take the hue of dried blood.

Will narrowed his eyes at her, not sure how to react. She knew him, but he did not know her. Her cat like grace as she jumped the two and a half meters down to the sidewalk made him blink at take half a step back. Impressed, he observed her as she brushed dust from her expensive-looking leggings. "You'll be surprised how hard it is to catch you alone. You'd think we'll have the chance to meet _weeks_ ago. But of course not."

The way she tilted her head as she looked at him made him finally realize what she reminded him of… a big cat. Maybe a panther? A Jaguar. Something like that. "What do you want?"

She smiled, light reflecting in her eyes.

There was a particularly loud honk coming from the road above, enough to distract Will – a blink of an eyes – and a sudden _click_ sound. He made a face. Confused to see the camera she was holding in her hands.

"Did you just take a picture of me?" The idea was so absurd he was kind of embarrassed to voice the question, he hoped she wouldn't laugh.

"Cold light suits you, brings your eyes out." She didn't sound apologetic, she put the tiny camera back into her cheetah-patterned purse.

His shoulders tensed in alarm, his scarf brushing his cheeks. "Who _are_ you?"

"Oh, _finally_." She muttered under her breath, loud enough for him to hear. She extended her hand with a smile. "Freddie Lounds, crime and investigations reporter."

"Reporter." Will wasn't sure what kind of face he was making, but it made her smile widen – turned it into a smirk. He didn't shake her hand, she brushed it off like she was used to it.

"I can only guess that you're not very fond of the media, haven't seen any newspapers in your box. You must not know me."

Will looked at her with wide eyes. _Are you for real?_ Did he hear her right? His _box_? Did she mean his _mailbox_ back at his apartment? Christ's fucking sake.

"I know of your story, you childhood – and your recent collaboration with the FBI? It's very interesting, and I'm not the only one to think so – the posts that included mentions of you got more views; that says something."

Will turned on his hills and began a fast pace towards the nearest metro station. He wasn't surprised when the reporter hurried to follow by his side, her elegant lady-boots making squishy sounds on the wet bricks of the sidewalk.

"Do you know how Allen Morse found you, and what were his reasons of engaging you? I heard it was because he was convinced you'd be able to clear the suspicions around him- and you _did_ , just that it was after he was already dea-" She had to separate briefly from him in order for the both of them to pass by the electronic ticket-gates. "So, what did you tell him that made him throw you away back then? Why not keep you captive?"

"Allen Morse wasn't a kidnapper, nor was he a killer. He was simply misunderstood."

"But you helped the FBI understand him, and in that- helped them catch the correct killer."

"It was their doing, I did nothing."

"Didn't you?"

Will's train was already in the platform, he climbed it. "Are you going to leave me along now?" He asked her when he saw her climbing behind him. "Or do I have to call Jack Crawford?"

She said nothing to that, just narrowed his eyes at him. She barely managed to get off the train in time – the door shutting quickly behind her back. Will looked at her through the window, and she was looking right back at him.

He smiled. And her eyes narrowed farther as the train began to move.

Freddie Lounds was impressive, and sharp. He kind of liked her.

*

*

He hated Freddie Lounds' guts.

The fucking bitch.

He shouldn't have searched her name in the internet when he reached his apartment. But it seemed like a harmless act of simply satisfying his curiosity. She apparently ran a very famous blog with hundreds of posts, most of them with exaggerated metaphors and theatrically dramatic titles.

She had two recent posts from the last month concerning _Will,_ or at least, including private information and seriously rude questions regarding his sanity. It was ridiculous and slightly frightening – how accurate she could be at times, while totally bullshitting her ass off in some details that made Will pale just to read about himself    

Worst of all, pictures. Many of them. In each post his pictures seemed to catch exactly the type of characteristics Freddie theorized about him. Even _he_ was surprised to see himself looking so melancholy and _sad_ after Morrison's shooting at the mall, standing in the rain. _I didn't even notice she was standing there taking pictures of me_. It was stupid of him, but how could he know?

There were some pictures taken from close enough to contain his profile in some high quality details that made him blush and hold a hand up to cover his mouth in mortification. _No wonder people in the street say they've seen my face before, it's because they actually did!_

A notification for a new post appeared on the screen, and Will clicked it – just to see himself again.

He stared at himself, read a few lines about how mysterious and gloomy he was, and then scrolled up to the picture again.

His eyes stood in a striking contrast to the rest of the greyish picture- Will wondered if it was edited to appear that way. His eyes didn't look so pretty, it was weird. His worn jacket and dark knitted scarf made him look thin, pale, poor. He was sure that the graffiti-filled concrete behind him earlier that day didn't look so _downtown_ in real life, he didn't remember it that way.  

Damn, he looked so poor in all of his pictures, really.

Will rubbed at his eyes furiously. "Shit."


	10. Fire on a Rainy Day

 

Hannibal was standing by the door when Will opened it. It was a rainy morning on a weekend, one in which Will was certain to be home- which, Will suspected – was the reason for Hannibal to arrive unannounced.

He was carrying bags, Will didn't have to think too much about it to understand that Hannibal was bringing him breakfast again. He also didn't need to think deeply about the reason behind the visit- it was quite obvious, by the look in Hannibal's eyes, that he was simply trying to approach Will with his own version of apology.

Will didn't think Hannibal owned him an apology, and he didn't know how to say it out loud without offending the man who was standing so hopefully by his doorstep.

"Well," Will said as he took a step to the side, clearing the way. "Come on in."

Hannibal went straight to the kitchen without saying anything.

*

It was about one hour later when Hannibal finally opened his mouth. It was the first thing he said to Will since Will opened the door for him. "I heard you were assigned to a new therapist."

A mouthful of baked vegetables was still in the process of being chewed in Will's mouth when he answered: "He's okay."

"Is he?"

Will shrugged his shoulders simply. "He's very professional, which I guess fits me just fine."

Hannibal looked at him, his fork froze mid-air on its way to his mouth. "Do you feel comfortable with him, that you can trust him?"

Will gulped on the food. "I don't particularly feel anything about him, honestly, I just go to the sessions I have with him because I know it is my only chance at staying out of the institution's apartments."

"I heard you mention it before, staying out of those apartments, what makes them so intolerable for you?"

"It's not as much about them being intolerable as it is that the longer I remain _out_ of them, I show that I can manage complete independence. I hope that by the time I'm 30 I'll be able to move out - away from this city."

They continued to eat in silence for a while, and Will took it as a sign that this particular topic of conversation was over. And so it surprised him, when Hannibal just went on in the same direction- about ten minutes later. "You said you don't feel anything about this psychiatrist the IPAO assigned for you, what does it mean?"

Will paused where he sat on the bed and regarded Hannibal for a moment. "It's not the same as when I was having sessions with Alana, I _cared_ about Alana. I guess I just don't really care about this new guy. I don't believe he finds me all that interesting either, which is… _good_. I think it was the reason he was assigned to me in the first place." And with that, he got up to grab some more noodles from the kitchen. Hannibal didn't say what he put in there, but it was _delicious_.

"I guess you're right."

"You _guess?_ "

Hannibal shrugged. He didn't do this kind of gestures a lot, and maybe that was the reason Will had to stop and look at him. Whatever made him blink at Hannibal with this funny feeling in his gut, it passed when Hannibal glanced up and their eyes met. Will averted the gaze, entering the kitchen and out of Hannibal's sight.

"I have a session in an hour in my office, would you like to accompany me?"

Will was putting a generous second serve from the skillet, there was enough for him to eat until he pass out and _still_ leave some leftovers for the day after. Hannibal was thoughtful like that. He was probably horrified from the state of Will's fridge and its contests – the last time he dropped Will a visit. "To the IPAA?"

"No, my office is in the city, I work with the IPAA only once every two weeks."

That was something Will didn't know until then. Alana's official and _only_ office was in the IPAO's building, and it was grand and very much _hers_ that he wouldn't be surprised if she accepted clients that were not omega in this very same office anyway.

Curious about what exactly Hannibal's office could possibly look like, Will answered with an "Okay." That was said quietly and indifferently. He entered the living room and Hannibal was sitting there with his empty plate ( _and when had he finished eating?)_ and was watching Will devour the meal with this odd light shining in his eyes like he was amused and fond-yet-exasperated with Will all at the very same time. Sometimes Will felt like a child next to him, not because of the things he said or did- but simply because of the way Hannibal sometimes behaved around him. Like Will was, somehow, testing his patience with everything he did.  

Just that Will had no idea why Hannibal would feel like that, and so he blamed himself for imagining things.

*

Hannibal's office was exactly how Will imagined it to be, except for one thing which made him stand still and gape.

The amount of books in there was… indescribable. It took only a minute for Will to skip the sitting area completely – jump up the ladder and up to the library. He was touching leather bound encyclopedias and dictionaries before he let himself re-think about what he was doing.

It could be easily interpreted as something he did to put some protective distance between himself and Hannibal. And… maybe it was, a little – pay as little attention to that one thing that makes you uncomfortable and maybe it'll go away. Hannibal wasn't going to go _away_ , it was _his_ office. Will was a guest who wasn't very sure he _really_ wanted to be there.

And so.

The fiction had its titles written on the cover, easier to identify among all the other books and notes on the shelves. Some were classics that Will recognized from the library in the IPAO - and more importantly – from Alana's office.

But some were new to him, and he was excited to see for the first time titles he didn't recognize at all. Had no idea what the book was about. It was… exciting.

Will looked behind his shoulder to see Hannibal arranging notes on his desk with his back to Will, not even watching Will wandering around in his very personal space. It made something in Will's chest warm a little, to think about himself as holding the privilege of Hannibal's familiarity.

"When does your patient supposed to arrive?"

"In about twenty minutes."

"Where should I go to wait while you have your session?"

Hannibal turned around to glance up at where Will was leaning over the banister. "I have a back-room where you can sit, as long as you don't open the door - and wait for me to come and get you."

"Okay."

And so Will retreated to the back-room with a random book he pulled from the vast collection on the shelves.

It was an hour and a half later that Hannibal opened the door to that back-room. "I have another session in another hour, would you like to stay, or do you wish me to give you a lift somewhere?"

Will blinked and looked around. The room had a fireplace with fire that was casting merry light on the darkening walls. Will switched-on the lamp by his sofa around fifteen minutes ago, he had water and cookies (the cookies were hidden in a jar in a corner but Will found them anyway), a nice book (so far) – he was quite comfortable. "I'm good."

Hannibal sat on the sofa in front of Will, looking at the fire and holding his own glass of water. "Has Jack made any contact with you since last time?"

A small sigh escaping him – Will shut the book and put it beside him. "No. I hope there won't be another murder anytime soon."

"Of course." Hannibal nodded. "I'm asking because of your salary."

"Yeah, well, about that." Will shifted in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's fine as long as I get enough money to eat. I already have the apartment, I don't need much more than that."

"I think you should save."

"Save?"

"In case you'll go study. In the future."

"I don't think…" Will frowned. "I don't think it would help me much. There is still a lot of prejudice over omegas in certain jobs that require higher education, and all of that. If I'll save for anything- it's to move to a bigger house out of the city. Selling the apartment would give me enough to buy a house - maybe, and whatever was left of Morrison's will - will help me – at least, for some food and maybe a car, at the beginning."

Hannibal didn't answer. And Will could see that the silence was an intentional one.

"What?" Will asked.

Hannibal tilted his head, shifting to look over at Will – who met his eyes. "It is just that I think you have so much potential – I would be sorry to see it go to waste."

Will huffed a single humorless bark of laughter. "You said it before. I think you're exasperating."

"I think you belittle yourself, blind to your own measures."

Will was trying not to glare. He was doing a poor job of it, though. "I think this conversation is over."

"And I think –" Hannibal was smiling, his eyes alight with something that made Will's glare deepen – "It is time you'll witness a part of my wine collection."

"Oh, don't you dare bribe me with alcohol."

Hannibal got up. "Why not, it is an ancient and a cherished tradition all across the world."

Will smiled despite himself. "You're _sly_ Dr. Lecter."

"Can't say I'm not."

*

Two glasses of wine later, Will was in a much better mood. And it didn't bother him when Hannibal asked "Have you given any thoughts to your last case?"

"You mean, the unsolved parts?"

"The parts about the body finding its way to that back alley, yes. I've seen the photographs taken from the scene, it looked calculated."

Will shrugged. "I think maybe I'll be going to investigate it later today. Whoever did this somehow knew about what was happening in the slaughter-house, I have the feeling that he knows much more about the dark secrets of this city. If we'll know who it is, it will no doubly help us _a lot_ in future cases inside the city."

Hannibal only nodded.

"He's an observant fellow." Will took a sip. "Sees a lot. I remember Sun was saying in the investigation room that he didn't know who could possibly know enough in order to take the body from inside their labs – the body of Nicolai Nisonov was put into a fridge after he found out about the operation by a foolish mistake – and put it out in the open without anyone finding out about it. The slaughterhouse used to be open around the clock. It was… smart, very smart."

"You don't think it's a revenge, do you?"

Will frowned. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because the body might have lead us to Sun, but Sun is hardly the headmaster of this body-trafficking system. Revealing the labs in the slaughterhouse only lead us to the tip of the thread of something much messier."

"Why not just leave a note in the nearest police station?"

The flames from the fireplace reflected in Will's blue eyes, startling with their color compare to the rest of him. "He doesn't want to create a pattern that can be tracked back to him. If he leaves bodies scattered around- it wouldn't make the police watch out for him _all across the city_. A police station can request street cameras to be put there – if they don't already have those – and watch out for someone who leaves notes at the dead of night.

But he didn't kill Nicolai Nisonov, searching for him can only remain in the lines of searching for witnesses – and witnesses cannot be arrested – only blackmailed into cooperating, maybe he wants to avoid that. Maybe he knows much more that he wants to reveal, maybe he knows the police wouldn't leave him alone once they got a sniff of him."

"So you plan on searching for him."

"I only wish to talk to him."

"You are not going to tell Jack about this man's whereabouts?"

There was a pause of hesitation, and then: "No."

Silence followed, until Will broke it with a: "Don't you have another session?"

Hannibal glanced at his watch with a frown. He was a little tipsy himself (Will was smiling like a fool at the sight). "Three more minutes."

There was a knock on the door to the main room – heard all the way to where the two of them were sitting and chatting and drinking (the bottle was almost empty by now).

Will raised an eyebrow when all Hannibal did was take another small sip from the wine. "He's _here_." And as if saying it wasn't enough – Will made a gesture with his hand – pointing to the other room through the wall..

Smiling one if his almost invisible smiles that were so annoying to watch – Hannibal said: "There are still two more minutes."

"You're impossible."

"I try to let everything come and go on its time."

"So _wise_."

"Do I hear traces of sarcasm?" Hannibal stood up, leaning his hands on his knees. Yup, tipsy. And he didn't seem fazed by it at all.

"Considering you're going to arrive to your session _drunk_ , I don't know."

"No need to be so dramatic. Two glasses of wine do not make a man like me drunk."

Will couldn't help but laugh openly as Hannibal made his way to the door. Hannibal sent one last amused glance behind his shoulder before shutting the door. Will waited until he heard him greeting his client, and then there was silence.

Will went back to his book.

*

*

*

Julian Talena watched the bank across the river, where two black SUVs stopped at the same point. He lifted his hand to add some more details to one on the trees on his water-color paper.

A man wearing black clothes exited the first car, and walked the few feet to the other car, leaning against its window – which rolled down so that the two men would be able to talk.

Whenever someone passed close to them, they stopped, when the side-walk around them was clear – they spoke.

The light reflecting on the bridge was overdone. Julian Talena frowned at it, and looked down to his pallet. Grey… grey… grey… mix it with teal blue – there we go, now it looks way better.

"Mister, this is beautiful!" A girl wearing baby-pink dress, around six years old, was leaning over his shoulder in order to see the drawing from the right angle.

"Why, thank you." He smiled, his accent making the words sound slurred. The girl didn't seem to notice. Sometimes Julian felt like Washington DC had more immigrants than locals these days. Julian Talena glanced over to the other side of the river, the two men were still talking with each other. The sun reflected on the smooth black surface of the vehicles.

"How did you learn to do this?" The girl demanded, she wasn't rude- just excited.

"Angelica!" A woman's voice came from behind them. The mother, Julian guessed. "What have I told you about bothering strangers?"

"But look, mom!"

There was a short argument, Julian wasn't listening. He focused his attention on the man who was returning to the driver sit of his SUV, the other one was already pulling out of the parking space, merging with the traffic.

Julian looked at the paper in front of him.

The roof needed more red, but oh well. "Would you like to have it?" He turned around on his small agronomic artist-stool.

Brown eyes widened, as the mother opened her mouth – probably to decline the generous offer – when the girl burst with joy, practically jumping up and down on her small feet, her hands flapping around her wildly. "Really, mister?"

"No, we couldn't possibl-"

"Of course." Julian Talena smiled at the girl.

"We'll at least pay y-"

"There is no need for that." Julian lifted a hand in the air, and the woman stopped mid-sentence. She was under ODPs, but her scent was still flowery, surrounding her with a permanent vibe of peace and gentleness. Julian smiled at her, and knew he won the argument.

"I'll wrap it for you."

"Thank you so much, really, I apologize for the way we inconvenienced you. You don't need to do this…" She was looking sincerely agitated, not sure how to react to the kindness she wasn't used to receive from the world.

"It's no problem. I prefer this work will find a home with someone who appreciates it." It was true, and that was why it was so easy to go with it. Julian finished wrapping the water-color paper with greaseproof paper and handed it over to the small hands of the girl, her big dark eyes shining with happiness.

"Thank you! Thank you!"

Julian only smiled, and watched them as they walked away, talking and laughing with each other. The girl was bouncing, with each step her hair was flipping up and down like a huge pompon.

*

Julian Talena didn't recognize the young omega man standing on the sidewalk by the electronic gate- the entrance to the complex where he lived. He had a feeling that the dark-haired man was waiting for _him_ , and oh, well – Julian Talena was hardly ever wrong about these kind of things.  

He was young, the boy, younger than Julian first thought him to be. He watched the boy, and the boy watched him right back. The boy's eyes were taking in his paint stained working jeans and the stool and canvas-stand he was carrying on his back – two straps holding everything together and on his shoulders.

"I heard there was a gallery in this building, belonging to a Talena, I wanted to take a look." The boy said when Julian was near enough for it to be polite to begin a conversation with him. Julian glanced at the boy from the corner of his eye; pretending he was not really looking while he actually was.

"It's closed on all days of the week except Saturdays." Julian answered. "What are looking for him for?"

The boy's expression shifted. "Looking for who?"

"Talena."

"Who said I was looking for him? I wanted to see the gallery is all."

And as Julian knocked on the numbers of the intercom with more force than necessary – he knew he made a mistake, one that will be impossible to correct, too late.

Oh well, some shit always happen to Julian Talena once in a while. No need to panic now. _Just flow with it_. "So, what are you looking for him for – then, really?"

When he looked to the boy, the boy's eyes smiled. "I heard he was good. I want to learn."

It wasn't the first time Julian Talena got sought out by people who wanted a teacher to lead them. From his experience- even the most persistent gave up after three times of asking him. "He's not teaching, you're wasting your time."

"I don't want to learn how to draw."

That sure made Julian freeze – door half open. "He's an artist, you know?"

"Yes."

Julian narrowed his eyes at him in a glare, the boy didn't seem to mind. "What do you want?"

The boy's mouth smiled- but his eyes looked dead serious when he said: "Mr. Talena, if you don't want the FBI to find this apartment, please do let me talk to you… privately. Give me ten minutes of your time, I'm sure it won't be wasted. If ten minutes are up and you don't want to see my face any longer – you'll get it. I won't tell anyone about you, or your art, I promise."

 Julian Talena's eyes were green and wide, his face slack with shock. "At least give me your fucking name." He said as he went into the stairs-room, the boy following right behind him.

 There was complete darkness for a second – before Julian pressed the light-switch and the dirty walls and yellowed stone-stairs were alight with a dim orange glow.

"My name is Will Graham."

Julian glanced behind his shoulder as he began to climb the stairs. "Heard that name before, now that I think about it – you look slightly familiar. TV?"

Graham shook his head, it wasn't clear if the gesture was done to express denial - or frustration. "Probably Freddie Lounds' blog."

"Oh, yeah, now that you mention it. How would I know that she's not following you right now?"

"I checked."

"Well, I hope that you're right."

"I'll say you're teaching me to draw."

Julian huffed, took in Graham's layers upon layers of clothing. It wasn't a fashion-statement, the lad simply looked like he didn't have enough money to buy a proper coat. "Well, at least that's a believable lie."

Graham's face snapped up to look at him, his brows closer together with puzzlement and an edge of offence. Julian didn't answer his unvoiced question, but chose to search his pockets for the keys, instead.

Entering the gallery, Graham didn't look fazed by the poor job of a painting that covered the wooden walls. The gallery was a single large room, with a single toilet-room connected. A white-painted door lead to the kitchen, and from there – Two doors – one leading to the studio where Julian worked and another to the bedroom. There was no living room, and so Julian stopped at the kitchen.

Graham didn't follow him in, he was still in the main gallery room, walking around and looking at the paintings. Julian left him to it, and decided that he'd let the boy have his ten minutes begin after he's finished. He put the stool and the canvas-stand by the corner, and poured himself a glass of tap-then-fridge-cool water.

It was at least five minutes later that Graham joined him, sitting on the only other chair in the room, across the table.

Will Graham was a peculiar man. Other than his obvious _smell_ which followed him around like a smoke coming from bonfire – which was a whole issue of its own. He smelled like wet wood, like sweat, and today- it was layered with alcohol. Julian Talena watched as Will crossed his legs just the same way that Julian was sitting, leaning back on the chair as if he had a permanent inflammation on the muscle tissue of his lower back – favoring his left side over his right - just like Julian had.

Julian sipped on his water, he didn't offer Graham a glass, and the man watched him drink with sharp blue eyes, his fingers clenched on the table. And Julian had a feeling that if Graham had a glass of his own, he would have lifted it to his lips at the exact same moment Julian did.

"You really are very good." Graham commented.

"Have you studied art?"

A blush. "No."

Julian put the glass down. "Your ten minutes start now."

"I think we're very alike, you and I." Graham opened, and Julian didn't reply. He didn't agree, but he wasn't going to say that. The boy obviously had some problems, but the sooner he's done with his speech, the sooner he will be gone.

"I want to help people, help… to prevent accidents from happening. You've read Lounds' blog, I assume by our earlier conversation, you've read about the man who was shot accidently in the mall?"

"It was all over the news. No chance of the local press giving up an opportunity like this one to vent some frustrations on the system."

Graham chuckled. "No, I guess not.

"A few weeks ago a body was found, in an alley." Graham continued. "Was there anything about that in the news?"

Julian watched the blues in Graham's eyes shift to a darker shade when he lowered them to the table – watching his own fingers rub against each other.

"I don't think I've seen this in the news, no."

Graham looked up sharply, blue irises surrounded by white. He smelled of a forest on fire on a rainy day and he gave off electric waves of something that pulls you in just to kill you, like flames. Julian Talena didn't like him, at all.

"Well, go on, talk." Julian snapped, at last, tired of the silence. Graham put him on edge. He wanted this boy to be out of his house as soon as possible.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Please do comment and tell me what you think :) I can be found in lavi1443.tumblr.com


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